


DNA

by edema_ruh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bad Cooking, Basically Peter is injured and in pain and Tony looks after him, Broken Bones, Bruises, Concussions, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fainting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, Iron Dad, Iron dad and Spider son, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Pain, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Sensory Overload, Sick Peter Parker, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is emotionally constipated, Worried Tony Stark, Worry, and feels a lot of guilt and worry, dad! tony, spider son, talking about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14784905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: Peter temporarily loses his powers after ignoring Tony's orders and stepping into a fight bigger than himself.Now, Tony has to take care of an injured Peter who can't use his enhanced metabolism to heal faster, all the while feeling guilty about having failed to protect the boy.





	DNA

The sky was tinged with a comforting mix of blue and purple and the wind was blowing pleasantly on Peter’s face as he sat cross-legged on the rooftop of a building, his Spider-Man mask half-lifted to expose only his mouth and nose to the cool temperature of the evening at Queens. He took in the sight of New York with a content sigh that was followed by a bite of his half-eaten sandwich, and the breeze blowing against his face had never felt more reassuring. He loved sitting at the highest buildings he could find and just watch the sun set at the end of a busy day. Usually, seeing the city lights sparkling to life and hearing the sounds of the people going around their business reinforced Peter’s feeling of having accomplished his duty. This, right there, was one of the things he loved the most about being Spider-Man: at the end of the day, people got to go home safely, live their lives safely, reencounter their relatives safely. If it was up to Peter, no one would have to endure the tragic loss of a loved one ever again.

He often thought about Uncle Ben and what his opinion would be if he could see Peter at this point of his life. When he looked in the mirror, he barely recognized the scrawny, wimpy, glass-wearing boy he used to be before he was bitten by the spider, but when he looked upon himself, without taking his physical appearance into consideration, he could still find all the things that made him Peter Parker in the first place. He wasn’t prone to believe in fate, but he liked to believe that, if he had gained these powers, then it must be for a reason. He had told Mr. Stark once that having the ability of doing the things he did, but not doing them, was the same as being complacent with the bad things that happened. He still stood by that. He _still_ felt like the pathetic kid that got locked up in lockers and was made fun of at school, but now, he was a pathetic kid that could lift a ton without breaking a sweat. If only his classmates knew about how often Peter saved their asses, maybe they wouldn’t tease him so much.

But he didn’t really care about the teasing. Surely, his life would be a lot easier without it, but nothing was ever really easy for him ever since he became Spider-Man. He could still remember the day after the bite, how everything felt too sharp and intense and absolutely overwhelming. He remembered growing accustomed with his newfound abilities in a few hours, but he also remembered how unusually heightened his senses had been during the first weeks. It had been a nightmare, yes, but nothing could be as bad as the feeling of Uncle Ben’s blood sticking to his fingers and the echo of his father figure’s last words after he had died. With great powers come great responsibilities, and that was the motto Peter decided to adopt for the rest of his life. Maybe destiny wasn’t real, but he had been given these powers for a reason. And he wouldn’t remain indifferent to anybody else’s suffering as long as he could do something to help. That was the only way he could honor his uncle.

God, if only he could talk to May about this. Ben’s death had taken a hard toll on Peter and May alike, but he couldn’t dare to imagine his aunt’s reaction should she learn of Peter’s responsibility regarding his uncle’s departure. Would she ever forgive Peter if she learned that he could have prevented what had happened? Would Peter ever forgive himself?

Acknowledging his thoughts were heading towards a miserable path, Peter finished his sandwich and crumpled the napkin to form a little ball, holding it in his hand before standing up. The sun had already set, and now the sky was a dark shade of blue, almost black. He knew that the best he could do to atone for his mistakes was to always try his best to help people and keep them safe, because he had the power to do so when they hadn’t. This wouldn’t bring his uncle back, but it would at least help Peter sleep better at night.

Speaking of sleep, Peter was _exhausted_. A whole day of studying and crime-fighting did that to a person, and a whole week of doing so made his tiredness ten times worse. Since Aunt May was out of town for the weekend, Peter hadn’t exactly been catching up with his sleeping schedule, getting home later than usual and spending more time as Spider-Man. May had only been gone for a day, and Peter had already managed to screw up his entire biological watch. He yawned, suddenly very eager to get home at once and sleep, now that everything seemed to be calmer around Queens. No burglars or criminals appeared to be around, and maybe he could finally get a little bit of rest before he returned to his routine on the following day.

He was in the process of searching for a trashcan to dispose of his crumpled paper and get home when something very loud passed by the roof of the building, flying past Peter so fast that his spider-senses barely had the time to warn him of the danger and make him dodge out of the way. Peter rolled on the floor, confused and astonished by the sudden apparition, and the thing had actually flown by at such a high speed that Peter could barely see it disappearing in the horizon. Before he had any time to recover, an Iron Man suit flew past him as well, not even noticing Peter’s presence in the roof or stopping as it followed whatever-the-hell-that-thing-was. Sleep and tiredness were immediately forgotten under the rush of adrenaline that flooded Peter’s brain, and before he knew, he was dropping his paper ball to the floor and pulling his mask down once again to cover the entirety of his face. Before Iron Man could disappear from his view too, Peter launched a web against the closest building and yanked himself off the roof, following Tony from a close distance and meaning to help him in his chase after the fast thing.

Of course, it took Tony less than a minute to figure out that there was someone following him, and it Peter wasn’t exactly surprised when the screen of his mask lit up with an incoming call from the billionaire. He already knew what Tony was going to say – something patronizing about him being a kid and having to go home –, but there was no way out of answering the call. Even if he _had_ refused, Karen had already picked it up for him.

“What’s up, Mr. Stark?!”, Peter greeted before Tony could say anything, trying his best to play it cool and sound as conversational as possible, given the circumstances (which were: webbing his way across Queens and struggling to keep up with a multimillion-dollar suit).

“What _exactly_ do you think you’re doing?”, was Tony’s response, as patronizing as Peter had expected it to be, and he didn’t even need to see his face to be able to imagine the way his eyebrows were raising with disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite compute the audacity that it took for Peter to follow him.

“I’m helping you chase after that thing!”, Peter said, trying to keep up the unbothered tone. Tony scoffed.

“When I need the help of a 14-year-old to chase after a mad scientist, I’ll let you know”, he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “For now, you can sit this one off”.

“Wait”, Peter frowned. “Mad scientist? That thing was a _person_?!”, he failed to hide the astonishment from his voice. There was no way a person could fly in that speed, unless they had superhuman abilities or – “Did he steal one of your suits?!”, he voiced his thoughts, exasperated.

“Kid, just go home”, Tony sighed, sounding like he wasn’t in the mood for keeping up with a teenager’s excitement. “This is a grown-up issue”.

“If he stole one of your suits, then you’re gonna need help, Mr. Stark”, Peter argued, struggling to keep up with Tony’s speed. Having to aim, shoot and yank at webs in order to keep himself in the air took a lot of concentration and dexterity, and even though Peter became much better at multitasking after he gained his powers, trying to argue with Tony Stark over the phone during a mission was very hard. Not because of to call on itself, but because Tony was as stubborn as Peter himself during arguments.

“He didn’t steal a suit”, Tony said, and the fact that he even bothered to share that much information with Peter immediately after ordering him to go home told the boy that there was something off about this person he was chasing. It was true that Peter and Tony weren’t exactly _close_ – they were surely a lot closer than they had been in 2016, that was a fact –, but for someone so closed-off, Tony was a pretty easy guy to read. He didn’t _overshare_ , unless he thought the information was important. And, for Peter, the fact that he was actually telling him something about this person they were chasing only served to show that Tony was serious about him leaving.

Unfortunately, as it was aforementioned, Peter was pretty stubborn.

“Is he a superhuman, then?”, Peter asked, deciding to push his luck. Tony sighed audibly over the line.

“You’re benched for this one, Parker”, Tony said, sounding impatient. “Just accept it and go home. _Now_. Friday, give me a little hand”, he added before the line went dead.

“Oh, _come on_!”, Peter protested as he watched Tony’s back repulsors charge and increase power with a burst, and before he knew better, the suit’s speed increased so much that it disappeared in the distance, leaving Peter behind. However, he continued his arduous track after his mentor, trusting his heightened senses to lead him where he had to go.

Peter continued to chase after Tony for a while, despite of knowing that the man would be extremely pissed off at him for disobeying his orders. But for Peter, if _Tony Stark_ had bothered to enter the Iron Man suit and chase after _one_ person in the middle of a weekend at Queens, then it _had_ to be a serious matter. Peter would just stay close by and watch, not interfering unless he realized Mr. Stark needed his help. That way, he would either remain undiscovered and get home once everything was resolved, or he would be able to help Mr. Stark in case he was needed. _It’s a win-win situation_ , Peter convinced himself as he realized that following Tony was leading him away from the heart of the neighborhood and into a park area, which had a dense vegetation and seemed to be vacant of people.

Unable to keep himself in the air by his webs any longer, since now there were only trees around him, Peter decided to continue the chase by feet. His senses allowed him to hear some kind of interaction several meters ahead of him, and so he treaded across the forest, careful not to make any sounds and to keep himself away from view. If Mr. Stark had already succeeded in capturing the fast guy, and Peter’s presence resulted in the guy escaping, then he would never hear the end of it. As eager as he was to jump into action, even after the exhausting day he had had, Peter knew it would be better to just observe for the time being. He would only act if he was needed.

He took cover behind a particularly large tree as soon as he spotted Tony in the middle of a small clearing, talking to a man that seemed to be around Tony’s age and wore a set of wings that resembled the Falcon’s. The man was pale and sweaty, looking extremely anxious, and his trembling hand was outstretched in front of his body, holding something up as if to threaten Tony. Peter could tell that it wasn’t a gun, but he had no idea what it could be. It resembled an EMP device, if only more sophisticated and glowing with a bluish hue.

“Put that down, Furmintz”, Tony said, a very clear warning in his tone. He also had his hands outstretched towards the man, but Peter knew that he was probably aiming the charged repulsors of his suit at him. “I won’t tell you again”.

“You don’t understand”, Furmintz shook his head frantically several times, which made him look like a maniac. He looked sick and delusional, and the hairs on Peter’s arms were standing up at the mere sight of him. His instincts were telling him to either put this guy down at once, or get the hell out of that place. He decided to ignore his spider-sense and watch silently.

“I’m pretty sure I _do_ , since I explicitly told you _not_ to make that serum and you went and did it anyway”, Tony scoffed. “I don’t know why people think it’s okay to keep ignoring my orders, but this has gone too far. Put. That. _Down_ ”.

“My father was right, you know”, Furmintz spat out accusingly, the nervousness that had permeated his voice suddenly giving place to anger. The hand holding the mysterious device was shaking violently. “You may be Howard’s son, but you have _none_ of his vision, _or_ of his balls”.

“And you clearly don’t have your father’s luck, since you’re still in the land of the living”, Tony spat back, a bit too cruelly. Peter had noticed before that Tony tended to grow very snappy and aggressive whenever someone mentioned Howard to him. “Let’s keep it that way, shall we? Just give me the device and I won’t be morally forced to _shoot it out of your hands_ ”.

“Threaten me all you want; you know this is inevitable”, Furmintz scowled. “If it’s not me, then it will be someone else. This _is_ going to happen one day, whether you like it or not”.

“Not if I can prevent it”, Tony took a step forwards. His voice sounded more metallic due to his faceplate, and that only made his whole appearance even more menacing. Peter didn’t know what the hell that device did, but it surely was something very dangerous, if Tony had bothered to go all the way there to stop this guy. Furmintz took a step back in fear.

“You _can’t_ ”, he growled, sounding braver than he looked. He shook his head again, but he looked disappointed this time. “I thought that, of all people, _you_ would understand. I thought that you would support me, after that super powered freak attacked you and left you to die in Siberia. Or did you think no one knew about that?”, he scoffed. Tony remained uncharacteristically silent. “ _Everyone_ knows. And everyone also knows that it’s because of these freaks – these, these _inhumans_ – going around, that the world is in danger. There were no alien spaceships flying around and destroying cities before these people turned up!”

“That you know of”, Tony pointed out, but there was something off about his voice.

“You can act superior all you want, Stark, but you know I’m right. Captain America, the Hulk, even that Spider-Kid you love so much, they’re all to blame for the destruction that has fallen on us ever since New York”, Furmintz accused. Peter’s heart skipped a beat at the words, but he barely had the time to compute them before Tony responded.

“Funny you should say this; I always thought that the _aliens_ were the ones to blame for that”, Tony’s tone dripped with sarcasm. Furmintz scowled again.

“Don’t think you’re not to blame, too”, the man argued. “You may not have superpowers, but you’re trying to _protect_ them right now. Protect the freaks that got my father killed, that got _your_ father killed, or did you forget about that?”

“That’s enough, Furmintz”, Tony interrupted, sounding angry. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to. Put that thing down”.

“You won’t shoot me”, Furmintz laughed.

“Try me”, Tony threatened. Even from afar, Peter could hear the whine of his repulsors charging.

“You _can’t_ ”, the man laughed again, a wicked grin glued to his lips. “You can’t shoot me. You know what will happen if you do”.

“Do enlighten me”, Tony retorted with sarcasm.

“If you hit this”, he wiggled the device in his hand, “it will go off anyway”, he explained with a victorious smile. “The range of the serum is of thousands of kilometers when the device is activated properly, that is true, but even if it explodes, it would still affect at least an entire district. So you either let me go, or try to take this from me. Either way, I am going to win”.

“So, my options are either having you kill thousands of people all around the world or having you kill… none?”, Tony said, disdain evident in his tone, which made Furmintz’s plan sound like it had been written by a child.

“This won’t kill anyone, you idiot”, Furmintz spat out, sounding outraged. “Unlike you, I am not a _murderer_ ”, he accused, and despite of the armor, Peter could see Tony flinch. “This will simply deprive these freaks of their powers forever, and restore them to what God had intended them to be. And you are a fool if you think this won’t affect anyone around here”.

“Sorry, are you trying to _convince_ me to shoot you right now?”, Tony asked, sarcastic. “Because it sounds like you are trying to convince me to shoot you”.

“Shoot me or not – it doesn’t matter. Even if I don’t succeed, I will inspire others. You can’t stop every reasonable person in the world, Stark, no matter how highly you think of yourself”, he said, finally lowering the hand holding the device. He would have looked resigned, were it not for the determination sparkling in his eyes. “You’re wasting your time trying to stop the inevitable”.

“Not everyone in the world is as delusional as you”, Tony said, but the usual confidence that always permeated his voice was lacking. “Some people hate superheroes, yeah, but that’s just how life is. You break your back to keep people safe, and they hate you in return. That doesn’t mean it’s ok to leave to people to their own devices, or to try to make superheroes weak just because that’s how _you_ feel”, he accused.

“ _Breaking your back_?”, Furmintz scoffed, laughing hysterically. “You aren’t the one breaking your back, Stark. If I’m not mistaken, that was your friend, Rhodes, wasn’t it? And keeping people safe doesn’t seem much like what the Merchant of Death had been doing until a few years ago. I know of several corpses –“

Before Furmintz could finish, Tony’s repulsors discharged a blast of energy that hit the man right in the chest and sent him flying back several meters. Before he could hit the trees behind him, however, his metallic wings came back to life and spread, halting his fall mid-air. The scientist looked like he was in a lot of pain from the blast and his shirt was actually smoldering from Tony’s blow, the energy having burnt the fabric off. And yet, the device was still securely held in his hand, clutched tightly as if it was Furtmintz’s lifeline.

Peter could tell Tony was recharging his repulsors in order to attack Furmintz again, but the man’s thumb was hovering above the trigger of the device, and if he successfully activated it – from what Peter could tell –, he would affect thousands of miles worth of super-powered people. Tony wouldn’t be able to invest against him fast enough to stop him from activating the device, so Peter did the only thing he could. He stepped out of his cover behind the tree and shot a web against the device on Furmintz’s hand, yanking it away from his grasp with a swift pull. Furmintz, who hadn’t been expecting someone to actually take the thing off his hands and who unaware of Peter’s presence, looked at his now empty fist with horror, only to find Peter a moment later, standing several meters away from him in the clearing and holding the device.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt you guys”, Peter said, waving the device for a moment before attaching it to his suit. “Just gonna take this and be on my way, you two carry on whatever you were doing!”, he added, before turning on his heels and darting away from the scene. He just needed to get close enough to a building to be able to escape using his webs instead of running –

“Get back here!”, Furmintz shouted, surging after Peter with a murderous scowl.

“Kid!”, Tony shouted at the same time as Furmintz, activating his repulsors so that he could also go after Peter. He aimed several blasts at Furmintz’ wings in order to give Peter cover and time to escape, but the material seemed to be very strong, for it didn’t yield to Tony’s offensive. Peter was just about to hoist himself up by a web when Furmintz approached him enough in order to grab his ankle and pull him back. The strength of the pull sent Peter flying back half the way he had just crossed, making the boy collapse harshly against one of the trees and fall to the floor with a grunt. He got to his feet at the same time the scientist intercepted him, his wings slamming against one of Peter’s shoulders and torso and pinning him to the grassy floor of the park with more strength then necessary.

And yeah, he’d been doing great fighting this weird winged scientist guy so far, but now that he could hear the whirring of the wings’ motors from up close, and now that he was being _pinned to the floor by his wings_ like an insect, Peter couldn’t shake off the flashbacks about the Vulture. Everything came back to him in a rush and he knew that he couldn’t freak out, not right now, because _Mr. Stark_ was watching and he would think Peter was weak if he had a panic attack during a fight. He would think Peter was unfit to be a superhero, and being a superhero was all Peter had now. His uncle had died for him to realize that being a superhero was the only thing he could possibly be. He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t _lose that_.

The thought only made him grow more frantic and he started to kick and punch madly at the man pinning him down, looking as desperate as a beetle that had accidentally rolled onto its back, unable to acknowledge that Furmintz was telling him something – and so was Tony. There was a high-pitched buzzing in Peter’s ears that made all other sounds unintelligible to him, and normally, he would have been able to lift a hundred times this guy’s weight, but Furmintz had managed to pin him down in the precise way from which he could not escape and he looked _just like the Vulture_. Tony’s words were growing more frantic now, and Peter couldn’t tell if he was talking to him or to Furmintz, but it didn’t matter. He had to get out of there. He had to get _out of there_.

Peter took advantage of the fact that Furmintz was leaning forwards in order to retrieve the device from his waist and kicked him square in the chest, his fight-or-flight instinct finally taking over. The man was sent back by the force of Peter’s blow just enough for the boy to roll away from his pinned position on the floor, now that the weight holding him down was absent. A second later, the wings came crushing down the place where Peter had laid just a moment before, crushing leaves and branches and dirt. Peter didn’t waste any time – he got to his feet as soon as he rolled away and sprinted as far as he could from Furmintz.

Tony placed himself between Peter and the scientist, shooting at the winged man with all the power of his suit. The wings Furmintz was wearing enveloped him like a shell, protecting him from Iron Man’s blows. Once Tony ceased the attack in order to recharge his blasters, Furmintz slapped him away with one of his wings, which was clearly very damaged by the offensive, and went back to pursuing Peter, who was already expecting that would happen.

He did his best to control his breathing and keep a cool mind, aware that panicking would only make things worse on that moment. He had the device on hands and one of Furmintz’s wings was already damaged by Iron Man – Peter could take this guy. He didn’t seem to have any superpowers, and even though his wings now made Peter shiver with fear and unwanted memories, he could do this. He was Spider-Man. He could do this. He hid himself behind another tree, aware that it was only a matter of time before the man found him. Said and done, a moment later Furmintz appeared in his line of sight, and before he could pass straight past Peter, the boy jumped from his hiding place and kicked the scientist square in the jaw, throwing him off balance. Furmintz collided with a tree, and his already malfunctioning wing completely shut down, wires and cables sparkling with energy as they short-circuited.

The man let out an enraged roar, using his now only functional wing to strike Peter at full strength. Peter was sent back, once again colliding with a tree and falling to the floor. Before he managed to get up, Furmintz kicked him, which made the device roll away from Peter’s hip and fall a few feet beside him. They both realized this at the same time, and they both surged forwards to grab the device simultaneously.

“Peter!”, Peter heard Tony shout after him as his hands closed around the device, grabbing it before Furmintz could. It appeared that the dead weight of the dysfunctional wing was slowing the man down, and the other wing alone wasn’t enough to give him necessary mobility.

“Got it!”, Peter grabbed the device triumphantly, getting back to his feet and raising it in the air as if to show Tony that he had succeeded.

However, Peter’s triumph didn’t last long. Tony opened the faceplate of his suit in order to reveal his horrified face and, before Peter could understand what exactly that was supposed to mean, everything happened at once.

The device on Peter’s hand began to whirr loudly, vibrating. Peter only had the time to glimpse at it before realizing that it was undeniably about to explode. The device had probably taken a blow when Peter was slammed against the tree, and its fall to the floor must have aggravated it and broken it down. However, Furmintz had said that, even if the device was broken or exploded, it would still affect people all across New York, and Peter couldn’t allow that to happen.

Desperate, he did the only thing he could think of. He dropped the device back on the floor and began to shoot several webs at it, enveloping it in a kind of web-cocoon. He could only hope that the structure of the web-fluid would be able to hold back at least most of the effect of the device, and continued to shoot several webs at it while Tony took the distraction to kick Furmintz on the head and knock him down for good. He tore the still functioning metallic wing from the man’s unconscious body and dropped it to the floor.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”, Peter was saying to himself as he continued to envelop the increasingly trembling device with his web-fluid. The thing would go off any second now, and he couldn’t stop shooting –

“Kid, get the hell away –“, Tony warned, outstretching a hand towards Peter at the same time the device finally exploded. The blast sent both Peter and Tony flying back on the clearing, and Peter’s back collided harshly with the floor, earning a muffled ‘oof’ from the boy. His body rolled over several times before finally coming to a stop, his limbs askew and sore.

Even though everything hurt and his ears were ringing, Peter managed to get on his knees at the same time Tony reappeared into the clearing, looking roughed up but otherwise fine. His whole suit opened up and he stepped out of it in a rush, hurrying to Peter’s side in order to aid him back to his feet. Peter accepted the help, despite of feeling a bit embarrassed for needing it.

“Are you ok? Are you hurt?”, Tony was asking him, a bit too frantic. He was supporting one of Peter’s elbows with a hand and using the other to squeeze Peter’s shoulder in a comforting manner, looking at the boy from head to toe as if to ensure that he wasn’t injured.

“I’m ok”, Peter croaked out. If he was being honest, he wasn’t feeling 100%, but he knew that telling Tony this would practically get him fired from the superhero business.

“You sure?”, Tony asked, letting go of Peter but keeping the hand on his shoulder. He looked anxious and nervous, alternating between checking Peter up and looking behind his back as if to make sure that Furmintz hadn’t woken up. The man’s body continued to lie down on the middle of the clearing, out cold.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m ok, Mr. Stark”, Peter nodded, swallowing dry and trying his best not to let Tony know how nauseated he was feeling. He couldn’t tell if this queasy feeling had been brought by the flashbacks with the Vulture, by him being thrown around like a ragdoll or by the adrenaline finally wearing off of his system, but either way, he decided to keep it to himself. He would be better once he got back home and took his much deserved nap; he didn’t need to make Tony worried for no reason. “What about you?”, he asked, noticing that Tony’s hands were shaking.

“What?”, Tony, who had been staring at Furmintz’s unconscious form, snapped his head back to look at Peter with a confused frown. Realization dawned upon his face. “ _Seriously_?”, he scoffed, disbelief painting his features. “I’m _okay_ Peter; I wasn’t the one being thrown and punched like a practice dummy. By the way: what the _hell_ are you doing here?”, he added, indignant.

“Uh, helping you”, Peter answered as if it was obvious, but with no disrespect in his tone. He pointed at the remains of the blown up device lying on the floor and still smoldering.

“I had him”, Tony argued. “You didn’t have to step in. Or follow me _at all_ – I told you to go home”.

“I know, Mr. Stark, but if I hadn’t followed you and stepped in, that guy would have pressed the trigger”, Peter argued back, feeling a bit too light-headed. He blinked several times as if to recompose himself and shook his head slightly. “You know he would. He was about to do it when I took that thing from his hands”.

“He’s a _coward_ ”, Tony hissed, taking a step closer to Peter and putting on his ‘I’m-the-grown-up-so-you-have-to-listen’ face. “He wouldn’t have done it. And now this thing went off, and I have to assess the damage”, he huffed out a breath, turning his back to Peter but not stepping away. Peter eyed Tony with just a bit of resentment. “Friday, report”, he said, adjusting his earpiece.

“So far, no collateral damage has been attested”, Friday replied. “The range of the explosion was considerably smothered by Peter’s web-fluid, and since the device was dysfunctional from the previous damage it sustained, the radius of its effects didn’t surpass a couple of meters”.

“Good”, Tony sighed, relief evident in his voice. Peter would have noticed the way the man’s shoulders relaxed and dropped, had his vision not been so blurry. Now that he thought about it, everything had been kind of blurry for a while. “Have someone come over and collect the remains of the device and the serum. I don’t want this falling into the wrong hands”, Tony added, completely unaware of Peter frowning in discomfort behind him. “Is the FBI on its way?”

“They have been contacted”, Friday responded. “Would you like me to give them specific instructions, boss?”

“Just tell them to lock this guy up”, Tony huffed out a breath. His voice sounded muffled, as if a veil had been placed on reality and Peter was watching things from underneath it. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision and his head, but everything was becoming fuzzy and he didn’t seem to be able to feel anything other than pain in confusion. Now that he thought about it, _everything_ in the world seemed to have been reduced to pain and confusion. More specifically, _pain_. He removed his mask in the hope that it would help clear his vision and ease his constricted breathing, but if anything, his surroundings only grew more dull and blurry. “They’ll have all the info they need to arrest him in their servers by tonight. Apparently, the Stark Industries staff is pretty good at keeping track of other people’s lives, including my personal one. Do me a favor and find out who’s been spreading the data about Rhodey and Rogers while you’re at it”, Tony rubbed a hand on his face, tired.

“Right away, boss”, Friday complied.

“Also, transfer all of Furmintz’s research from the SI servers to my personal own; I don’t want any fanboy to try to copy him or follow his footsteps”, Tony added. “And I don’t want this to be exclusive to the FBI, either. On a second thought –“

“Mr. Stark?”, Peter ended up blurting out, because his torso was burning with a hellish pain that he could no longer bear. Tony turned to look at him with a hint of annoyance on his face, but as soon as he saw how pale Peter’s face looked, and how the boy was hunching over and trying to hug himself, his lips parted in shock and fear, all traces of annoyance disappeared from his face and were replaced by deep concern. Peter took a hesitant step forwards. “I… I don’t feel so good”, he said, at the same time his wobbly knees finally gave into his weight and he collapsed. He would have fallen face first on the floor had Tony not surged forwards and grabbed him, and Peter immediately clung to Tony’s shoulders in a week attempt at grounding himself. Tony held him close, but the position was awkward and Peter was sliding off his grip. He settled the kid down on the floor of the park, carefully lying Peter down on his back and keeping a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him. Peter stared up at Tony with wide, terrified eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening”, he admitted, because everything was painful, blurry and confusing and the only thing Peter was sure of was that there was something very, very wrong with him.

“Friday”, Tony said, and if Peter hadn’t been so disoriented, he would have noticed the way his mentor’s voice trembled with panic and worry. “Talk to me”.

“It appears the low-range effect of the explosion was still enough to affect Mr. Parker”, Friday immediately provided, sounding like she was still analyzing and receiving the information. “The genetic mutation that gave him his abilities is being suppressed by the serum as we speak”.

“No”, Peter protested at Friday’s words, even though he was only half-conscious now that he was put in a horizontal position. Tony prevented him from sitting up by pressing a hand on Peter’s shoulder, which happened to be the same area where Furmintz’s wings had hit him mere minutes before. Peter cried out and hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing his head back in an attempt to keep from sobbing. He missed the horrified look that Tony gave him in response, and barely noticed that the hand was removed from his shoulder as if it had been burned.

“Is it – is it permanent?”, Tony asked, keeping his eyes fixed on Peter’s whimpering and fidgeting form. There were tears escaping from the boy’s squeezed eyes, and he was grinding his teeth in an attempt to keep from screaming again. He reopened his eyes once he heard Tony’s question, eyeing the billionaire with a vulnerable wariness that almost resembled dread.

“I can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem to be the case”, Friday said, and Peter immediately let out a shaky breath that he didn’t even know he had been holding. His head fell back on the grassy floor beneath him, and he managed to relax a little, even though everything – specifically breathing – hurt like hell. “According to the data Karen is sending me, Peter’s abilities are only dormant, and will probably be restored once the effect of the serum wears off. This is probably thanks to the fact that Peter is not an inhuman, which was the original target of the serum”.

“Good”, Tony sighed his relief so tangent that he fell on his side from his kneeling position, only one elbow supporting him up. “How long ‘til the kid can go around webbing again?”

“I’ll need to chart his progression to be sure”, Friday responded, but there was still a tinge of worry on her voice. “However, Peter’s capacity to heal himself faster and his enhanced metabolism will also be dormant along with his powers. Karen’s current diagnosis is of three broken ribs, one severely bruised back and a mild concussion”.

“Warn the nearest hospital of his condition”, Tony instructed without missing a beat. “I’m taking him in”.

“No!”, Peter immediately protested, surging forwards again and immediately regretting the action. His ribs – which he now knew were broken – protested in pain and made him hiss again. Tony pushed him back against the floor once more, but this time, he was more delicate as if not to disrupt Peter’s injuries. The boy, however, didn’t yield. “No hospitals, Mr. Stark. Please”.

“Kid”, Tony said, sounding like he was about to argue about quantum physics with a 4-year-old. “You’re in a bad shape. You can’t just sleep these injuries off; you need medical attention”.

“Please, Mr. Stark”, Peter pleaded again, barely managing to hold back a sob as another stab of pain erupted on his torso. He fixed his eyes on Tony’s, only hoping that he would be able to convey all the sincerity that it took to convince him. “No hospitals. May is out of town. She’ll never forgive herself”, he tried to reason, feeling frustrated that the words he wanted to use weren’t quite reaching his lips. He wanted to make a strong case for himself, but his head felt like mashed potato, everything hurt and he _couldn’t focus_. He decided to blame that on the concussion. “Please. I’ll be ok”.

“You’re _not_ ok, Peter”, Tony argued, sounding almost indignant.

“She’ll think it’s her fault”, Peter continued, grabbing one of Tony’s hand and squeezing it as if to emphasize his point. “Don’t take me to a hospital. Please. I’ll be fine at home; I j-just need time to heal”.

“Your healing isn’t quite functional right now, kid”, Tony said. “I can’t just give you a ride home and leave you there with three broken ribs and a concussion”.

“I’ll be ok”, Peter repeated, sounding like he was trying to convince himself, rather than Tony. “I’ll be ok. Just. N-No hospitals. Please. I can handle it”.

“You shouldn’t _have_ to handle it”, Tony hissed, sounding angry. Peter immediately assumed that Tony was angry with him, because he had disobeyed his orders and got himself hurt – again –, but if he knew better, he would have noticed how guilty and worried Tony looked. “You should have gone home, kid”, he added, sniffing and running a hand through his hair.

“I’m s-sorry, Mr. Stark”, Peter blurted out, but there was sincerity in his tone. He was barely thinking straight anymore, and the corners of his vision were growing darker with every painful breath he took. His health had deteriorated in such a small amount of time that he was extremely confused. “I’m – I’m sorry”.

“I’m getting you out of here”, Tony swallowed dry, getting to his feet and trying to control the shaking in his hands. Peter watched him from where he still lied on the floor, his breath hitching in his throat and coming out shaky and shallow. Tony stepped back into the Iron Man suit and it closed around him, activating. “Friday, make sure the wreckage is away from here before the FBI arrives. Take it to my lab”.

“Right away, sir”, Friday replied.

“Kid, this is going to hurt”, Tony warned, crouching back beside Peter, who eyed him with wide eyes that were trying really hard to look brave, but had a lot of trust. “I’m here with you, ok? Just – don’t fight back”, he added. Peter swallowed dry and nodded hesitantly.

Tony passed his hands beneath Peter’s battered body, one beneath his knees and one beneath his shoulders, and before the boy had time to brace himself for what was coming, Tony was lifting him up from the floor bridal-style. Peter couldn’t keep from crying out, and he leaned his sweaty forehead on the armored shoulder of the suit in a week attempt to hide his face from Tony. It was already bad enough that Tony was seeing him this vulnerable; he didn’t want the man to see him crying as well. The dark corners in his vision were getting wider and wider until he could barely keep his eyes open anymore, and the last thing he heard himself say before he finally lost consciousness was a barely audible –

“No hospitals, please, Mr. Stark”

– and then there was nothing but silent, painless darkness.

 

 

 

 

“C’mon, kid. Do I have to do everything for you?”, Tony grunted. Peter’s limbs were limp and he was leaning like a deadweight against Tony, who was having a tough time removing the Spider-Man suit from the barely conscious boy.

“Hngh”, Peter grunted. They were back at Peter’s apartment, since May was out of town and therefore they weren’t under any risk of having her barge in and see a disheveled Tony Stark trying to help her injured nephew. Even though Tony had already managed to make the clingy suit grow loose by pressing the spider in the middle, he was still having trouble removing it from Peter, whose limbs were limp and heavy. He finally managed to remove Peter’s arms from inside the suit and pull it all the way down to his hips, revealing a shirt with a physics pun that would have made Tony’s heart warm up with pride in any other situation. After minutes of struggling, Tony finally managed to remove the suit from Peter’s legs, carefully placing the boy’s limp form back into a lying position. Peter immediately shivered and tried to curl into himself as if cold, even though he was still wearing the clothes he had on beneath the suit. Taking the back of his hand to Peter’s forehead with a worried frown that he didn’t realize he was making, Tony noticed his skin too warm for comfort.

Tony would have let Peter sleep with his suit on, especially since his aunt wasn’t about to arrive home for at least another day, but Friday had pointed out that it would be better for Peter to have his broken ribs bandaged, at least until he got his powers back and healed himself from his injuries. Tony had plenty of experience on bandaging ribs – not only because, unlike other superheroes, he didn’t have any powers or fast metabolism to heal his injures, but also because Afghanistan had taught him a lot more than he usually let on. Tony hadn’t been the only hostage the terrorists tortured, and whenever Yinsen came back from his sessions with bruises on his torso and pain in his eyes, Tony made sure to offer whatever little comfort he could to the man that helped him so much, even if they never formally spoke about it. He would simply bandage Yinsen up in the way the man taught him and go back to his tasks, and if Tony happened to catch a glimpse of gratitude in Yinsen’s eyes whenever he bothered to look at him to check if he was ok, none of them ever mentioned it.

However, Tony couldn’t exactly bandage the kid’s ribs with the suit on the way, and Friday had already retrieved all the data she needed on Peter’s health status so far. She would still have to make an hourly check-up in order to chart Peter’s progression and predict when his powers would return, but Peter didn’t have to be inside the suit in order for her to do that. Tony had argued with his AI that it would be better to take the boy back to his workshop, rather than his apartment, but if he had to be honest with himself, he couldn’t do much to help Peter in either places. What the kid truly needed was a hospital, but he had seemed so distraught at the possibility of being taken to one that Tony didn’t find it in his heart to go against Peter’s pleas. He had decided to take him home, not only because Peter had begged to, but also because he knew how risky it was to take Peter to a hospital without jeopardizing his identity.

Tony didn’t take too long searching Peter’s bathroom for a first aid kit, and he took the little box back to the boy’s bedroom with a heavy heart. Bandaging the kid’s ribs all by himself wouldn’t be easy, and it would probably hurt a lot. Tony already had a hard time dealing with regular Peter – the one who had superpowers, and a fast metabolism, and could lift tons of weight with only one hand –, but dealing with _this_ Peter was an entirely different experience. Even though he worried about the kid – _constantly_ –, he knew Peter was strong. He knew Peter was capable. This kid could snap Tony’s neck using only his little finger if he wanted to. He wasn’t _weak_. The reason why Tony worried about him so much was because Peter could be all of those things, but he had _no_ experience. He still had a boyish innocence that Tony had lost long ago, when Howard gave him his first beating, and that most superheroes lose on their first years on the field. Tony knew that he couldn’t protect Peter forever, or maintain his innocence, but that didn’t mean he didn’t _want_ to. And even though Peter was already getting himself in danger by being Spider-Man way before Tony first contacted him, he still felt responsible for giving the kid more than he could chew. Maybe Tony wasn’t responsible for _putting_ Peter in the superhero life, but he would be damned if he allowed the superhero life to put an end to Peter.

Yeah. He liked this kid. He would probably never admit this to anyone, especially not to Peter, but Tony _liked_ him. There was much of himself that he saw on Peter – the good parts; the parts that hadn’t been ruined by Howard and Afghanistan and Obie and everything bad that happened afterwards. When Tony looked at Peter, and at what Peter could do, he saw potential in a way that he hadn’t found in years, not in MIT, not in ST, not even in his own mirror. Peter was a superhero, but that wasn’t the only reason why he was special. The kid had designed his own web-fluid, for god’s sake. He had _brains_. If he wasn’t busy with his life as Spider-Man, he would have made a great protégé.

(He kind of already _was_ Tony’s protégé, but it was not like he was going to admit it, not even to himself).

But now Peter was writhing and shaking on his bed, lying in fetal position and barely managing to breathe properly, and Tony just couldn’t take that. He cared about the kid, yes, because he was smart and quick and funny and reminded Tony of himself, but this was something else. Peter was injured and in pain and there was absolutely _nothing_ Tony could do but to wait for him to get better. He couldn’t fix him – he wouldn’t even know where to begin – and he felt like it was his fault that Peter was in this position. Tony had warned him to go back home, yes, but still, if the kid hadn’t followed him, if the kid hadn’t _seen_ him – he wouldn’t be in this situation. This frustrated him to no end – to know that Peter was suffering and to know that he was incapable of doing anything to stop the pain.

Tony had definitely seen a great deal of injured people before – even before the Avengers – but usually, the sight didn’t bother him much. His Avengers teammates – or rather, ex-teammates, now – were constantly getting themselves hurt in the middle of battle and found themselves in the need for medical assistance afterwards. Tony himself was a person who constantly got his ass injured, whether it was while working on new projects at his workshop or in the middle of battle against the supervillain of the week. He was _used_ to it. Injury and pain had become a constant in his life ever since Afghanistan, but even so, there were specific people who made him lose his cool if they got injured. Rhodes. Pepper. Happy. And now it appeared that Peter had made into that list as well. Tony didn’t put too much thought into the meaning of that.

But the point is that humans were like machines – sometimes they broke down, but most times, they could be fixed by capacitated professionals. Tony excelled at fixing machines – there was a reason why he remained a billionaire after his father’s death –, but fixing people? That was definitely not his area of expertise. He had managed to hold Yinsen together, and he had paid the best doctors money could afford to heal Happy and Rhodey when they needed it, but getting his hands dirty wasn’t exactly his style. Taking care of someone – tending to their injuries and watching over their health – was too personal, too _intimate_. And, if there was something Howard had taught him, was that it wasn’t profitable to be close to anyone.

Tony had spent his entire life trying to live up to his father’s words and not open himself up to anyone, but after fifty years of succeeding at keeping his heart and his feelings as closed as an oyster, a _smart teen from Queens_ was the one to make a crack in his walls. How absolutely pathetic.

“Remind me why I didn’t take him to the workshop again”, he said to no one in particular as he retrieved the bandages from the first aid kit, knowing that Friday would catch the cue. Peter continued to sleep on his bed, brow slightly scrunched up in pain.

“It is better for Peter to be in a familiar ambient while he recovers”, Friday promptly responded in Tony’s earpiece. “In addition, you would be forced to work with the same number of resources there as you would here, with the difference that Peter’s apartment has a bed. And a first aid kit”.

“The workshop has a bed”, Tony argued absentmindedly as he worked on the bandages. “And first aid”.

“The couch you use for powernaps hardly qualifies as a bed, boss”, Friday said. “And Dum-E realigning your bones cannot be considered ‘first aid’”.

“You sound exactly like Pepper”, Tony huffed out a breath, placing the bandages he would need and the tape on the edge of Peter’s bed. He also grabbed a couple of pills he would probably need to give Peter later and placed them on the nightstand, shutting the first aid box close and shoving it to the side. “That’s _weird_. And not in a good way”.

“I apologize”, Friday said, though her tone sounded smug. It was amazing what Tony could do with these AIs. “Should I remove the phrase from my code?”

“Nah”, Tony shrugged. “Leave it there. It’s very convincing. Ok, let’s get to work”, he said, standing from where he had been sitting on the floor and sitting down at the edge of Peter’s bed. The boy didn’t react to his presence. “Hey, Peter. Are you with me?”, he asked, hoping that would be enough to rouse him. Tony liked Peter, but he didn’t want to get too close. He couldn’t _afford_ to get to close. People who got too close to him often broke his heart, and giving this kid this kind of power was extremely frightening to Tony. Peter, however, continued to sleep, though there was the hint of a frown on his forehead. Tony sighed, gently squeezing one of Peter’s shoulders. The skin was hot to the touch. “C’mon, Pete. Nap time is over. I need you to give me a little hand here, buddy”.

“Hmph”, Peter huffed, shuffling on the bed. The movement made pain erupt in his features, and he slowly blinked his eyes open at the same time a muffled whine escaped his lips. He didn’t seem to be very awake or aware of his surroundings, because he stared at Tony with no trace of recognition in his glassy, distant eyes. “Huh?”, he croaked out, evidently confused. Tony’s chest tightened at the sight of the boy in such distraught, and he was just the slightest bit relieved that Peter wasn’t aware enough to see the profound worry in Tony’s face.

“Hey. It’s ok; you’re on your bed. I need to bandage your ribs, do you think you can sit up for a bit?”, Tony asked, trying to get straight to the point. He wasn’t _good_ at this. Had Peter been a robot, he would have already been fixed by Tony’s capable hands, but Peter was a person. A living, breathing, _feeling_ person who Tony saw as a surrogate son – another item on the list of ‘things he would never admit’ – and who was in pain because of him. The idea that Peter was in pain freaked him out; the idea that _he_ would have to take care of Peter freaked him out even harder. But the idea of taking Peter to a hospital that could end up making experiments with his altered blood, or of leaving Peter to his own devices while so injured was completely unfathomable to him. He _had_ to do it. Peter continued to blink dumbly at him, disoriented.

“Wha’?”, he slurred, clearly way too out of it to make sense of Tony’s words. Without provocation, Peter winced in pain, hissing, and allowed his head to fall heavily against his pillow. Tony swallowed dry with concern.

“You got an ass-kicking, remember, kid?”, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re in a bad shape and I’m trying to help you. I didn’t get you to a hospital, since you were so _vehement_ about it, so now I’m going to need you to cooperate”, he explained, trying to put on his usual nonchalant and dismissive tone.

The effect his words had on Peter were the opposite of what he had expected. At the mention of a hospital, the boy’s eyes widened and he half-jolted from the bed, which obviously had a disastrous result. He cried out in pain, doubling over and falling on his side on the mattress, which made Tony surge forwards in alarm. He held both hands to Peter’s shoulders and tried to hold him still on the bed so that he wouldn’t injure himself even further, because frankly, he could sympathize with having broken ribs and trying to get out of bed. Maybe he didn’t suffer with this as much nowadays, but when he first became Iron Man, getting beaten up by bad guys and thrown around inside a metal suit was not exactly healthy for his body. He would frequently have to deal with broken bones, and more often than not, broken ribs. The difference was that Tony never had the optimistic prospect of being able to super-heal himself in a few hours, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel bad for Peter all the same. After all, Peter could have powers, but his regular body – the one that didn’t have the spider-abilities and the super-healing – wasn’t  exactly used to receiving a beating from a mad scientist with metal wings, let alone an explosion.

“Hey, Peter, it’s ok”, Tony immediately reassured, because what else could he do? Seeing the kid in such misery, unable to heal himself, was doing _things_ to him. Maybe Peter wouldn’t remember that he showed that he cared when he recovered later. Maybe he wouldn’t use it against him.

Peter was a good kid. He wouldn’t _use it against Tony_ , would he…?

 “No hosp’tal”, Peter slurred, disoriented. He tried to struggle against Tony’s hands holding him, but he was too weak to free himself from the grasp. He looked up at Tony with fear in his eyes. “Don’ tell May”, he added, voice weak. Tony sighed.

“You’re not in a hospital and no one’s telling May”, he said firmly, in a tone that was almost demanding. Peter’s struggles ceased, but he remained tense beneath Tony’s grip. “Really, kid, quit wriggling around so much or you’ll end up making things worse”, he added.

“Mr. Stark…?”, Peter frowned, hesitant. His eyes were glued to Tony’s face, but they were glassy and squinted, as if he was having difficulty making out who it was in front of him.

“The one and only”, Tony replied, letting go of Peter’s shoulders. Peter slumped back to the bed, blinking with confusion. “I need to bandage your ribs. Can you sit up?”, he asked, managing to sound impatient even though he was very, very concerned about Peter’s lack of awareness.

“I… I…”, Peter tried to say, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. “I don’t remember what happened”, he admitted, words still dragged out.

“That’s expectable”, Tony sighed, offering a hand to aid Peter up. The boy accepted it, and with great difficulty, managed to hoist himself into a sitting position using Tony’s hand as a crutch. Tony pretended he didn’t hear the muffled whine that escaped Peter’s lips as he did so. “You have a concussion and you’re pretty battered up. Now stay still and let me do this, ok?”, he instructed, looking at Peter and waiting for his consent. The boy nodded, though his eyes were droopy and he looked like he was about to fall asleep any second. “Shirt up”, Tony nodded at Peter, grabbing the bandages from the bed.

Peter lifted his shirt just enough for Tony to take a look at the mess of bruises that his torso had become. If his ribs were already looking like _that_ , Tony didn’t even want to look at the kid’s back.

“Stats?”, Tony asked Friday as he began enveloping Peter’s upper torso with the bandage.

“The ribs are stable for now. The bandage will keep him safe until he manages to heal himself”, she supplied.

“Does he have a fever?”, Tony asked, face vacant of anything other than sheer concentration as he focused on the task at hands, but extremely aware of the unnaturally hotness of Peter’s skin and of the blush tinging the boy’s face. Peter’s eyes had closed, but he was holding himself still in a sitting position, allowing Tony to bandage him up without offering any sort of resistance other than a held-back grunt every now and then, whenever Tony pulled the bandages too tight.

“Not yet, but it appears his temperature has been increasing for the past couple of minutes”, Friday explained. “It would be advisable to give him antibiotics, along with his painkillers”.

“Fine”, Tony said, finishing bandaging Peter’s ribs. He tapped one of Peter’s hands lightly to indicate that he could lower his shirt back, and this made Peter’s eyes open again, though they were still as glassy and unfocused as before. “Ok, kid, you can lie back down now”.

“Ok”, Peter said simply, voice shaky and small, falling forwards and leaning his face on Tony’s shoulder. Tony blinked in surprise at this, not sure of what to do with himself, before gently hugging Peter so that he could lead the boy into a lying position on the bed once more. Peter shivered and shook as Tony pulled a blanket around him, having retrieved it from the corner of the boy’s bed.

“Take your pills and then you can go to sleep”, Tony instructed, taking the specific pills from Peter’s nightstand and placing them on his hand. They consisted of the strongest painkiller available at Peter’s apartment, and an antibiotic to help with his fever. The boy stared dully at the pills as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with them. “Go on, just swallow them up”, Tony added, sounding just the tiniest bit impatient again. Maybe he _was_ impatient. Maybe seeing Peter in such a helpless, painful state was making him have issues controlling his anxiety. Peter put the pills in his mouth and, before he could attempt to swallow them dry, Tony rolled his eyes and handed him a glass of water. The boy took a gulp, handed the glass back to Tony and immediately allowed his head to fall against his pillow, eyes shutting close and hands pulling his covers all the way up to his chin. He was asleep in less than a minute.

“How is his concussion?”, Tony asked Friday in a low voice, not wanting to rouse Peter.

“It’s safe for him to sleep, boss”, Friday replied, knowing exactly what Tony had meant by the question – as usual. “But, if it would make you feel better, you can rouse him every other two hours, just to be on the safe side”.

“Keep me updated on his fever”, Tony instructed, standing at Peter’s bedside and looking around the room as if he was trying to figure out what exactly he could do to entertain himself while stuck in a 16-year-old’s bedroom for hours. “And let me know when it’s time to give him the pills again”.

“Sure thing”, Friday complied. “If you could put your biometric watch on Peter’s wrist, I could start charting his progression and provide a more reliable prognosis”, she pointed out.

“Yeah, I bet you could”, Tony sighed, removing the watch from his wrist and pulling one of Peter’s hand from beneath the covers so that he could put the watch on him. It had been designed by Tony to biometrically monitor his own health and make sure he wasn’t about to have a heart attack out of nowhere, given his cardiac issues, but he knew Friday could quickly adapt it to Peter’s biometry in order to chart his health instead.

“Should I contact anyone while you are here, boss?”, Friday asked after a couple of moments in silence, probably busy adjusting the watch to Peter’s body.

Tony was silent for a while, still looking around the room in deep thought and analyzing it. It had certainly been improved from the last time Tony had been to Peter’s place – the twin bed had been replaced by a nice bunk bed, all the old, second-handed and scavenged tech that Peter dumpster-dived had been replaced by somewhat brand new devices and there were posters hanging from the wall like a classical teenager’s room. Surely, most of that improvement was due to Tony – despite of Aunt May’s first reluctance at accepting all of those ‘gifts’ from the billionaire –, but there was still something… off.

“You know what, Friday?”, Tony said, sighing and pulling Peter’s rolling chair closer to the boy’s bed so that he could sit down. He crossed one arm above his chest and used the other to support his chin. “There’s a couple of people I want you to contact”, he instructed, staring pensively at Peter’s fast asleep form.

 

 

 

 

When he woke up, there was a throbbing in his head and pain burning his chest. He had to blink his eyes several times until he could keep them open, and even so, he couldn’t see much. Everything was blurry and glassy, and he couldn’t quite remember what happened. There were flashes of metallic wings, a blue explosion and something about hospitals, but in reality, Peter had no idea where he was or what had happened to him.

As he tried to sit up, something damp and cold flopped from his forehead and into his lap with a wet noise. He frowned, propping himself into a half-sitting, half-lying position with his elbow even though a hot, stabbing pain invaded his torso as he did so, but he couldn’t exactly see what he was holding. His vision was too blurry. In fact, his vision was as blurry as it used to be before he gained his –

A wave of memories flooded his mind and Peter took in a shaky breath as he remembered Furmintz, the device and the explosion. Friday had said that he had lost his powers temporarily, which probably explained why his torso was on fire and he couldn’t see anything. Before he could freak out too hard because of the sudden remembrance of the events, there was a hand on his shoulder pushing him back into a lying position. Peter didn’t fight back, allowing himself to be handled like a child as he tried to make sense of everything that was happening to him. It took him a long time to realize that there was someone speaking to him, and he turned his head to find a man-shaped blob crouching in front of him.

“Mr. Stark?”, Peter asked, immediately hating the way his voice sounded croaked and raspy from sleep. He tried to clean his throat, but ended up coughing, which resulted on a brand new wave of hot pain running through his chest. He winced as Tony handed him a glass of water, from which he drank greedily until the itch on his throat was soothed. Once the glass was empty, he handed it back to Tony, who was still looking more like a blur than an actual person.

“Are you with me, kid?”, Tony asked, sounding a bit anxious. Peter frowned, trying to make out his features in order to interpret them, but failing to do so. “What, _what_ is it?”, Tony added, sounding slightly annoyed. “You’ve done nothing but _squint_ so far; do I have something on my teeth? Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Sorry, Mr. Stark”, Peter immediately apologized, lowering his gaze and feeling embarrassed. If there was something he had always felt extremely relieved and thankful for, was that he no longer had to wear glasses after he got his powers. To be deprived of that – the ability to see – made him feel even more terrible about himself, alongside with the pain and confusion he was feeling. Telling Tony that would only make him feel even more vulnerable, but he couldn’t shrug the subject off as well. Eventually, he would need to get out of bed, even as he waited for his powers to return, but he couldn’t do so without seeing. “I… I wore glasses before. When I didn’t have powers. So now that I don’t have them anymore…”, he trailed off and shrugged, immediately regretting the action. His chest protested the movement and he winced.

“Hm”, Tony hummed in a disinterested way, but somehow, Peter could tell that he was surprised by that information. It seemed to be very Tony-like to act like no information surprised him, no matter what. “Do you still have your old glasses somewhere?”, he asked from somewhere beside Peter’s bed. Peter pondered for a few seconds.

“Yeah”, he said. “But you won’t be able to get them. They’re in my nightstand drawer back at home”, he admitted. There were a few moments of tense silence in which Peter couldn’t see what face Tony was making, but he could tell that there was something wrong.

“Peter”, Tony said very seriously, and the use of his first name called his attention. He blinked at the man’s blurry form with expectation. “We’re at your apartment. You’re in your bedroom”.

There was a pause in which Peter simply stared at Tony, feeling a flush of embarrassment rise to his face. He ran his eyes across the room he was at, trying to recognize his surroundings, but the only source of light was coming from a lamp somewhere behind Tony and everything else was mostly dark. Peter could barely see without glasses in a well-lit room, let alone in a dark one. There was the sound of shuffling and a drawer opening, and then Tony was muttering:

“Jesus, kid, just how _bad_ is your eyesight?”

“Really bad. One of the best things about getting my powers was that I didn’t have to wear glasses anymore”, Peter admitted with a sigh, trying – in vain – to find a more comfortable position in bed. He tried to sit up again while Tony was looking for his glasses, but immediately decided against it when his whole body protested the movement. He ended up going from lying in a fetal position to lying on his back, which still made every nerve in his body ache and burn, but also offered momentary relief to the side in which he had been lying on this whole time.

“There you go”, Tony said, finally finding the glasses and offering them to Peter. The boy picked them up and hesitantly placed them on his face, blinking fast as his surroundings sharpened and came back into focus. He looked up at Tony with awe in his face – he had forgotten the sensation of being unable to see, and then seeing again –, and the billionaire stared back at him with arms crossed above his chest and an unimpressed look.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, relieved. He allowed his head to fall back against his pillow, ignoring the constant ache on his back.

“You’re not winning any organization points for the state of that drawer, Parker”, Tony said, walking back to the chair that was pulled beside Peter’s bed. Now that he could properly see, even in the mostly-dark room, Peter realized that the damp, cold thing that had fallen from his forehead was a cloth. Noticing the way Peter was frowning at the material, Tony added: “That’s for your fever. It got worse a few hours ago, but it’s getting better now. So: nothing to worry about”, he shrugged, and if Peter didn’t know better, he would have thought that Tony was trying to reassure himself, rather than him.

 “Ok”, Peter said, still taking in all the information that Tony was telling him. Then he frowned. “Wait, a few _hours_? How long have I been asleep?”, he asked, agitated.

“You’ve been in and out”, Tony said, typing something down on his phone as he spoke. “But I brought you in and bandaged you up about fifteen hours ago. Friday says your powers should return in about –“, he turned his hand as if to take a look at his wristwatch, but found nothing there. With a resigned sigh, he turned back to his phone to see the time. “Hm. About six hours”.

“Oh”, was all Peter could say. He had expected his powers to take a lot longer to return, given the way he was feeling, but to know that they would be back to him in six hours was actually really good news. He would definitely celebrate, had his chest not felt like it was about to collapse at any given second.

“So, how are you feeling?”, Tony asked after a few moments passed in silence. He still wasn’t looking at Peter, having his full attention diverged to his phone screen, but there was a kind of interest in his voice that was very different from the way he usually spoke to Peter. In fact, now that Peter thought about it, he didn’t really understand why Tony was sitting at his bedside, at his _apartment_. Didn’t he have other things to do? Tony had never seemed to be the babysitter type.

“I’m ok”, Peter said, not wanting to make himself look even more vulnerable than he was feeling. Tony tore his eyes away from his phone to stare at Peter, an eyebrow full of disbelief raised at him. Before Tony could even say anything, he corrected: “I’m, I – I mean, I’ll be ok. In six hours”.

“Are you in pain?”, Tony asked, going back to his phone but sparing Peter worried glances every few seconds.

“A – a bit”, Peter admitted, feeling embarrassed and weak. He didn’t quite meet Tony’s eyes as he spoke, staring straight up at his ceiling instead.

“Here”, Tony said, putting his phone away and handing Peter a couple of pills. “It’s time for you to take them, anyway”, he added as an afterthought. “Stay here; I’ll fetch you more water and something to eat”.

“You don’t have to, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, embarrassed, but Tony was already walking out of the room.

“You’re not going to _dry swallow_ the pills, kid”, Tony replied from the hall. He returned with a glass of water and a plate in no time, and Peter had never avoided someone’s eyes as hard as he was avoiding Tony’s on that moment. He took the glass with a muttered ‘thanks’ and drank the water up with the pills, handing the cup back to the billionaire with a lowered head. He could hear Tony sigh, but still didn’t look at him. Then Tony helped him prop himself up into a sitting position on the bed, more pillows than necessary supporting Peter’s form up. Peter’s back ached terribly from the contact, and he frowned when Tony placed a fuming plate of unrecognizable contents on his lap.

“What’s – what’s this?”, Peter asked hesitantly, hating the way his hands shook violently once he grabbed the spoon leaning on the plate.

“It’s chicken soup”, Tony said, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world. His arms were crossed above his chest and he was watching Peter intensively, as if he wanted to ensure that the boy would eat everything. “You need to recover your energies, so I made it for you a while ago. It’s still hot, so eat it up”.

Peter eyed the soup with wary eyes, because that definitely did _not_ look like chicken, but he didn’t want to appear ungrateful for Tony’s efforts. He tried to hold his hand steady as he took a spoonful towards his mouth, but he was still shaking heavily when he managed to slurp the soup down.

The soup wasn’t _terrible_ , but it was evident from the taste that Tony had no idea what he had been doing when he prepared it. Peter tried his best not to grimace as he swallowed down the first spoon of the overly salty, terribly seasoned soup, and gave Tony a tiny smile accompanied by a nod when the man raised an eyebrow in expectation for his reaction.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark”, Peter mumbled past the soup in his mouth, trying not to drool himself. “It’s – it’s good. Good soup. It’s nice”, he nodded emphatically. Tony squinted his eyes at him.

“Huh. Who’d figure”, he said, taking back his seat beside Peter’s bed. “Do you need help with that? Your hand is shaking”, he pointed out, noticing how shaky Peter’s grasp on the spoon was.

“No, no, I’m ok”, Peter lied, taking another spoonful of the soup as if to prove his point.

“Good. Feeding people is not really my area of expertise”, Tony leaned back on the rest of the chair, one elbow leaning on the armrest and intertwining his fingers above his lap. “Can you believe this is the first time I ever cooked soup?”

“Oh, I can”, Peter chuckled past the soup in his mouth, immediately regretting it.

“What was that?”, Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter, an indignant look on his face.

“I didn’t mean – I just, I mean, that’s – you’re, well, you’re… a billionaire. I figured you never had to cook soup for yourself before”, Peter said, trying to make up for his words. Tony continued to eye him suspiciously.

“Yes, that’s true”, Tony admitted. “I considered getting you a hotdog from the stand in the corner, but Friday made a very good point that this wouldn’t be exactly nutritive for you. Since you’re recovering, and all”, he gestured at Peter. “So she talked me through cooking this for you. It’s easier than I had expected it to be”, he commented, a bit too proudly.

“The soup is fine”, Peter smiled sincerely at Tony. In reality, it meant the world to him that someone as rich and inexperienced as Tony would go as far as attempting to cook him soup when he was lying injured in bed. “Thank you, Mr. Stark”, he said again, not sure how else he could convey his gratitude.

“Don’t mention it, kid”, Tony said simply. Peter finished the soup with just a bit of difficulty and in less than five minutes, and by the time he was done, he felt exhausted. His hands were shaking harder than ever and he kept shivering every other thirty seconds, waves of cold and hotness overcoming him all at the same time. Tony grabbed his empty plate and took it back to the kitchen, and when he returned to Peter’s bedroom, he sat back down on his chair and fished his phone out of his jacket.

A few moments of tense silence passed, in which Peter could only hear the faint sound of Tony’s fingers tapping on the screen of his phone and the distant noises of the city outside his apartment. This was a weird, unprecedented experience to him – it was like he was living with a plastic bag above his head, his senses dulled and smothered by an invisible field around him. He knew this was just the way normal people experienced reality – this had been the way _he_ experienced reality before he was bit by the spider –, but he also knew that having superpowers was an event horizon for his life. How could he go back to having a regular hearing, when he knew what it was like to hear what happened streets away from him? How could he go back to having a normal regular sense of smell, when he knew what it was like to be able to tell people apart by the scent of their shampoo? How could he go back to wearing glasses when he knew what it was like to see an enemy from a mile away? Even though Peter knew it would only take a few more hours until he got his heightened senses back, it still felt terrible to lie in bed without being able to see without glasses or hear what was happening outside. He felt weak, and pathetic, and invalid, and the fact that Tony was there to witness him at his lowest wasn’t exactly doing wonders for his self-esteem.

Because deep down, he knew that Tony would have never paid attention to a middle-class, scrawny, nerdy kid from Queens who had no parents and lived with his aunt. If it hadn’t been for Peter’s powers, Tony would have never spared him a second glance, or even a _first_ glance, for that matter. It was _Spider-Man_ Tony needed, not Peter. Which was why Peter was extremely confused as to why Tony was _still there_. If he had already bandaged him up and given him his pills, why stay? Did he have so little faith in Peter that he felt obliged to supervise him until he got his powers back? Did he really see Peter as a weak kid who couldn’t look after himself? On the other hand, had Peter _ever_ managed to prove Tony wrong on those matters?

“Stop”, Tony said simply after a while in silence. Peter turned his head to look at him, hating the way his glasses immediately went askew on his face as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. He sighed, pushing them up the bridge of his nose and straightening them. Tony was still typing something down his phone. “You’re overthinking”, he explained, not looking at Peter.

Without knowing what to say, Peter went back to staring up at the ceiling, feeling pain and confusion. He never knew what to expect from Tony, because despite being a playboy and a public figure, he wasn’t exactly the most open person in the world. Peter could tell that a great deal of Tony’s personality was a façade, but he never knew when Tony was faking and when he was being serious. His fear that he would end up overstepping an unspoken boundary stopped him from ever trying to get closer to the man, however, and at the rare moments of closeness they shared, Peter never knew how to act. The one time he had attempted to hug Tony had been dismissed as ‘not being quite there yet’, and so he never tried again. If he did so, would Tony hug him back or push him away? He never _knew_ how to tell. Tony was a complete mystery to him.

“Look, kid”, Tony sighed again, this time putting his phone down and straightening himself on his seat. He crossed his legs and stared straight at Peter, who, when turning his head to look at him again, was forced to straighten his askew glasses once more. “I’m not really _good_ with this kind of thing, so I’m going to talk and you’re going to zip it, all right?”, he raised an eyebrow. Peter nodded hesitantly. “It’s ok to feel like you’re feeling”, Tony continued, tilting his head so that he wouldn’t have to meet Peter’s eyes. “You’re in pain and you can’t heal and you probably feel vulnerable. I can understand that. Being thrown around inside a metal suit results on a lot more broken bones than people seem to think, so I can sympathize with you. There’s no need to feel embarrassed”.

“I –“, Peter tried to said, but Tony made a hand gesture that indicated he wasn’t done talking yet.

“What I’m trying to say is that I know how you feel. It doesn’t feel so super when you’re battered and injured and someone else has to look after you. But at the end of the day, you’ll still be Spider-Man, so nothing to worry about. No one will think any less of you because you needed help, ok?”

Peter blinked at Tony for a while, trying to make sense of his words. He was under the vague impression that Tony was applying a double standard to him, because had it been Peter to tell him that no one would think less of him because he needed help, Tony would probably laugh at his face and try to poorly take care of himself all alone. But still, Peter was glad that Tony was at least trying to offer him some sort of comfort, because he was really feeling terrible and Tony’s presence was one of the only reasons why he wasn’t losing it on that exact moment.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark”, Peter said sincerely, still feeling a bit embarrassed but not as much as before. To have Tony talk so openly with him, and about such a personal subject, made Peter feel a little bit more confident, despite of his situation. He could tell that it had probably taken Tony a lot of courage to open up like that, and he was thankful for it.

“Don’t mention it, kid”, Tony waved a dismissive hand at him. “I know it hurts a lot right now, but you’ll be ok. You just need to take your pain killers and stay in bed until your powers come back”.

“Okay”, Peter complied, going back to staring at the ceiling.

“Also, _maybe_ learn how to take orders from now on”, Tony added sarcastically after a few moments of silence. When Peter glanced at him, the older man had gone back to staring at his phone screen. “As much as I would never admit it in front of _some_ people” he rolled his eyes, “it’s an important part of being a hero. The whole teamwork and knowing-when-to-quit deal, you know”.

“But –“, Peter tried to say.

“No buts, kid”, Tony interrupted. “I get it. You’re a teen. You’re stubborn and you want to prove yourself. I know the drill”, he shrugged. “But I’d rather have you wrong and alive, than have you right and dead. And yes, I know, you’re a superhero, you can’t just stand aside when bad things happen because then they will happen because of you, etc., etc., etc. But I could have handled Furmintz on my own. You didn’t have to step in and get yourself hurt for no reason. _You_ should have listen to _me_ ”, he accused, a bit too bitterly.

“Mr. Stark”, Peter cut in. “He was going to activate the device. I was just trying to help”.

“I _know_ ”, Tony huffed out a breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if he was trying to recompose. “I know you were trying to help. But you’ve got to understand that some things are just too big for you right now. And when the grown up tells you that you gotta sit this one out, then you _listen_ to him. In this case, to me”.

Peter worried at his lower lip, frustrated and feeling like a little kid receiving a scolding.

“But what if he _had_ activated the device?”, he pointed out. “What if you hadn’t been able to stop him? Thousands of people would have been affected, and I would have to live with the fact that I could have done something to stop him, but didn’t. That would be on _me_ ”.

“And if you had been affected”, Tony retorted. “That would be on _me_. That _is_ on me”.

Peter stared at Tony for long moments, not sure of what he could say.

“Mr. Stark, this wasn’t your f–“

“I feel responsible for you, kid”, Tony said before Peter could finish, sounding like he was having trouble vocalizing his feelings. His head was tilted away from Peter, but he sniffed and turned to look at him with an unreadable look. He was sitting in a relaxed manner on Peter’s chair, thrown back against the back rest and legs crossed conversationally, but he could see how tense Tony’s shoulders were. “I’ve already told you that. And I’ve got a lot of red on my bill already, so I’d be thankful if your name didn’t make it into my guilt list”.

Peter continued to look at Tony, at a loss for words. This apparently made the billionaire annoyed, for he huffed out a breath and shifted on the chair, intertwining his fingers and wearing a self-depreciative look.

“I may not have been the guy who designed that serum and tried to set it off, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t my fault”, he continued when Peter remained silent, gesturing at himself. Peter frowned in confusion.

“Who was that guy anyway, Mr. Stark?”, Peter asked, voice barely above a whisper. Tony stared at the distance for a couple of seconds before replying, not meeting Peter’s eyes.

“That was Harold Furmintz”, he explained, a somber look on his expressive eyes. “His father used to work with _my_ father back in the day. They researched and designed bioweapons together, until Furmintz died under unknown circumstances. When I became head of Stark Industries, I decided to hire Harold into the scientific division, _partially_ because he had a great intellect; _mostly_ because I felt like I owed him a family debt. It took me longer than it should have to realize that most of the stuff he was researching was potentially threatening, and when I finally found out about the serum, he had already stolen the prototype for the Falcon’s new wings I had been working on and was planning to eradicate as many superpowered people as he could. He believes his father’s death was related to super-humans, and decided to get his revenge against them like a good old-fashioned villain. The only reasons you weren’t permanently affected by the serum were: you’re extremely lucky; the device was mostly broken when it went off; and the serum had been designed to target inhumans, which you are not. So, hurray for you, I suppose”.

“Was anyone else affected?”, Peter continued to frown, worried, searching Tony’s face for answers.

“Thankfully, no”, Tony said, shifting on the chair again. “I wish I could congratulate you for that, but if I do, you’ll think that what you did was ok”, he raised an eyebrow.

“But I did save thousands of people”, Peter pointed out, giving Tony a hesitant, almost apologetic smile.

“Yes, and you could have lost your powers or _gotten killed_ in the process”, Tony argued, disbelief evident in his voice. “Do you really want _me_ to be the one to tell your aunt that her nephew is dead? After everything she’s been through?”

Peter opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to respond. He lowered his eyes, confused and upset, because Uncle Ben’s death was still a sensitive subject for him, and to think of May’s reaction in case he should die, too… It was difficult. And yet, the death of his uncle was the exact reason why Peter had become Spider-Man: he had chosen to step aside, to not get involved, and because of his choice, the man who was like a father for him had lost his life. The reason why Peter had stepped into the fight against Furmintz in the first place was not only because he had the responsibility to keep others safe, but also because he couldn’t allow yet another father figure to lose his life because of his negligence. He wished there was a way to make Tony see and understand that without ending up sounding like a desperate, needy, fatherless kid.

“You’ve got to be careful, kid; that’s all I’m asking”, Tony added, sounding slightly gentler than before. He probably noticed the effect that his previous words had on Peter, who had gone back to staring at the ceiling. “You’re a superhero, and you feel like you have a duty, a _responsibility_ ”, he shrugged. “But you don’t have to carry that weight alone. There are other heroes in the world, and the planet isn’t going to fall apart because you failed to stop one bad guy or because you stayed home to study for your Spanish quiz. Stay in your lane, and let others do the hard work every once in a while”.

“But would you listen to your own advice?”, Peter snapped his head to face Tony, and maybe this was his fever completely dulling the filter between his mouth and his brain, or maybe he had simply developed a newfound courage inside of himself, because the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. The realization of what he had just said made him slightly dizzy, but now it was too late to go back. “Would you stay in your lane, knowing that you could do something to help? Would you stay home, knowing that there are people in danger and you can do something about it?”

“I have more _experience_ than you”, Tony retorted after a couple of seconds of absolute silence. His tone was only slightly condescending, in a very Tony-like way. “And you have a whole life yet to live”.

“So do you, Mr. Stark”, Peter argued, actually sounding offended despite of the weakness in his voice. He wished he could be sitting up and talking to Tony face-to-face, but he also knew that his whole argument would go downhill if he attempted to sit in the state he was in. “We’re both heroes, and we both know that there will always be risks when we do what we do to keep other people safe. My life is not worth more than yours”.

Tony stared at Peter with an unreadable look in his eyes, and if the boy didn’t know better, he would have thought Tony’s eyes were almost glistening.

“It is to me”, Tony finally said, voice firm and low. His tone left no space for arguments, but Peter was stubborn just like that.

“But it _isn’t_ ”, he said, shaking his head ever so slightly and raising his eyebrows at Tony. “And I’m not going to let you _die_ when I can do something to help just because you told me to go home. I respect you a lot, sir, but I just can’t do that”, he shook his head slightly, managing to keeping a straight face even though there were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and his nostrils were flaring from the effort of keeping them from running down his cheeks.

Tony sniffed again, turning his head away from Peter and staring anywhere but at the boy. To Peter, he looked a bit angry, but that anger seemed to be directed towards himself, rather than to him. His leg was bouncing slightly as he tried to come up with an appropriate response, and he was closing and opening his fisted left hand, which was supported on the arm of Peter’s chair.

“You should go back to sleep, kid”, he finally said, eyes pointed downwards. “You still have six hours ahead of you and we can talk about this later”.

“I mean it, Mr. Stark”, Peter added, feeling brave despite of all his injuries. “You’re important to… to the world”, he stuttered, embarrassed. _To me_ , he wanted to say, but no matter how brave he felt, the words couldn’t find their way past his tongue.

Tony gave him a sideway glance that carried a lot of incredulity and resentment with it, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Peter was trying to sugarcoat his words. He sighed, shifting one final time on the chair so that he was turned to face Peter.

“You’re important to the world too, kid”, he sighed. Leaning over, Tony grabbed the damp cloth that was lying forgotten on Peter’s lap and placed it back against his forehead with a little more abruptness than necessary. “Now get back to sleep. You’re going to need the rest”.

“Thank you”, Peter felt the need to say. “For staying, uh. For staying here with me”.

“You can _thank me_ by keeping your ass out of trouble in the future”, Tony bickered, tucking Peter’s covers more tightly around him but still managing to look like that wasn’t a big deal. “That would do wonders for my stress management. And probably spare me of most of my grey hairs”.

“You don’t have any grey hairs”, Peter frowned, but there was the hint of a smile on his lips.

“Now I know why you need glasses”, Tony scoffed, reaching to remove them from Peter’s face. Peter, however, turned his head away from the man’s hands.

“No”, he protested, a little frantic. Tony stared at him in confusion. “Please, Mr. Stark, don’t take my glasses off. I can’t see without them”, he explained. Tony’s posture deflated and he stared at Peter with patronizing look.

“You won’t need to _see_ while you’re _asleep_ , Spider-Kid”, he reasoned. However, Peter continued to lean away from the touch, looking almost like a frightened animal. He remembered being a kid and keeping his glasses on until he was passed out from exhaustion on Aunt May’s lap, and only when he was in the deepest layers of slumber was when his aunt ever managed to retrieve the glasses from Peter’s face. Still, the first thing he always did as soon as he woke up was to reach for his glasses, desperate for the clarity they offered him. He had forgotten what this felt like after he was bitten by the spider, because being able to see without aid was one of the best things that ever happened to him, but having his bad eyesight back only brought old fears along with it. He was injured, and in pain, and sustaining a fever – the only comfort he had on that moment, other than Mr. Stark’s presence, was his glasses. He didn’t want them removed. Tony didn’t seem to quite understand that, but he resigned, leaning back on the chair and giving Peter a defeated shrug. “Fine, whatever you say”, he said, fishing his phone back from his pocket. “But I’m not going to remove the shards from your face if you break them in your sleep”, he warned. Peter managed to give him a tiny chuckle at this, but immediately winced in pain at the movement. Tony spared him a worried glance.

“It’s ok, I won’t break them”, Peter reassured once he recomposed himself. “I used to wear them in my sleep all the time when I was a kid”.

“You’re still a kid”, Tony pointed out, a crooked, affectionate smile appearing on his lips.

“You know what I mean”, he said, just a tiny bit defeated.

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Get some rest, spiderling”, Tony instructed simply, looking at his phone only so that he wouldn’t have to look at Peter. He only raised his eyes from the screen after several minutes had passed, just to find Peter already fast asleep on the bed, the exhaustion from the conversation and from his injuries probably catching up to him. The boy’s mouth was hanging open and slack, and the sound of his soft snoring was barely audible in the otherwise silent room. The damp cloth clinging to his feverish forehead and the pair of askew glasses on his sleeping face only made him look even more ridiculous, in a warm, affectionate way that Tony wasn’t entirely familiar with. The sight of Peter sleeping with his covers pulled all the way up to his chin and drool running down the corner of his mouth made Tony want to ruffle the kid’s hair and call him son, no matter how absolutely, _impossibly_ ridiculous that thought sounded. The truth was that knowing that the kid cared about him – that the kid cared about him _enough_ to put himself into danger because of him – was something that Tony hadn’t been prepared to deal with, and that made something warm blossom inside his chest. He knew that Peter admired him and looked up to him, but to know that the kid seemed to worry about him, even though Tony was older and more experienced in the superhero field, made a fatherly protectiveness grow even bigger inside Tony’s heart. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those cheesy feelings, but as he reached forwards to remove Peter’s glasses from his face as carefully as he could, he decided that, maybe, _just maybe_ , having Peter Parker as some kind of unofficial, surrogate, son-like figure wasn’t such an abominable idea in the first place.

 

 

 

 

He didn’t know for how long he had been dozing off, but he woke up with a startled jolt, looking around in frantic confusion and urgency. His legs, which had been stretched away from the chair and supported by the edge of Peter’s bed, immediately went back into action as Tony jumped to his feet, because the sound that had roused him from sleep was the sound of Peter’s muffled cries and sobs. Tony found the kid curled onto himself in a fetal position on the bed, covers kicked to the floor along with the damp cloth that had been cooling down his feverish forehead. Peter’s eyes were squeezed shut tightly, tears running down his cheeks, and he was grinding his teeth together as if to keep from screaming. Before Tony could even ask what was going on, the sickening sound of a bone cracking erupted from Peter’s chest and the boy yelped, throwing his head back and trying to curl harder into himself.

“Friday, talk to me; what’s going on?!”, he asked anxiously as he kneeled down on the floor beside Peter’s head. His trembling hands hovered above Peter’s shoulders without effectively touching them, desperate to help the suffering boy but not knowing how to.

“His powers are returning”, Friday explained; a kind of urgency in her tone. “His metabolism is increasing and trying to heal his injuries all at once!”

“Goddammit”, Tony muttered under his breath, just at the same time another one of Peter’s ribs cracked back into place and the boy screamed in anguish again. Tony’s hands began to shake heavily and he watched Peter with wide, terrified eyes that darted all over the boy’s trembling body, unsure of what to do. “What – what can I do? Don’t say there’s nothing I can do, because there’s _got_ to be _something_ –“

“Painkillers would be ineffective; his metabolism would just burn them off immediately”, Friday supplied, sounding like she was running over the data at the same moment she spoke. “I believe the best course of action is to make Peter lie down straight; this way his ribs will mend faster and he won’t risk puncturing his lungs”, she instructed.

Tony’s hands shook violently as he grabbed both of Peter’s shoulders and tried to make the boy turn, so that he would lie on his back, rather than on his side. However, since Peter’s powers were reawakening, this meant his super-strength was back as well. Unaware of anything else other than the pain he was feeling, Peter struggled against Tony’s attempts of shifting him, holding himself still on his side.

“Peter!”, Tony shouted, trying to call the boy’s attention and desperate to help decrease his pain. Peter winced at the call, but didn’t open his eyes or acknowledge Tony at all. “Peter, I need to know if you can hear me. You need to get on your back, buddy, c’mon”, he instructed, trying to push Peter onto his back again, but it was to no avail. The boy stayed in the same position, and yelped again when the last broken rib tried to crack back into place and failed, muffled sobs escaping his lips. The sight and the sounds broke Tony’s heart, and he gave an extra effort at making Peter shift. He managed to get Peter halfway on his side before the boy’s arms flailed against him, in a meek attempt to defend himself. Peter’s fist hit Tony square on the nose and the billionaire fell back on the floor, disoriented and dizzy from the sudden blow. In no time, a metallic taste filled Tony’s mouth and he didn’t have to take a hand to his face to realize his nose was bleeding, probably broken. Ignoring the throbbing on his face and the ringing in his ears – Peter did have a mean swing –, Tony rushed to his feet and went back to holding the boy down before he could curl into himself once more.

It took Tony a lot of struggle and effort to get Peter on his back, and he was forced to hold one of the boy’s shoulders down using his elbow so that he wouldn’t manage to get back into a fetal position. Peter’s legs were still writhing weakly on the bed as he attempted to free himself, and once he realized that there was something pinning him down, his eyes shot wide open, gluing themselves on Tony’s face and going in and out of focus.

“What’s – ah, _ouch_ – w-w-what?”, he slurred and hissed, face contorted in pain and confusion. His eyes squeezed shut again and he threw his head back once another cracking sound erupted from his chest, trying to struggle against Tony’s hold.

“Peter”, Tony called, frantic. “Peter. _Peter_. Hey. Look at me”, he instructed. Peter turned his head and opened his tear-filled eyes, face pale and hair disheveled. His lower lip was quivering from pain and his face was the picture of anguish, and Tony felt like he was on the brink of having a panic attack because this? This was _exactly_ what he had been trying to prevent; this was exactly what he feared. Seeing his kid in pain, seeing him _suffering_ without being able to do anything to stop it. He was aware that losing his cool on that moment would cause more harm than good, so he had to take deep, controlled breaths before he ended up hyperventilating. “You’re ok. You’re going to be ok. I’m here with you, all right? Just breathe. It will be over soon. Just breathe. C’mon”, he encouraged, taking exaggerated breaths so that Peter could try and copy them. The boy, however, simply stared at him with a vacant confusion in his eyes.

“Hurts”, Peter whined through gritted teeth, throwing his head back again. Tony let out a shaky breath, not sure how else he could help Peter. The boy tried to wiggle himself away from Tony’s touch, but the billionaire held him down.

“Friday, how much longer?”, Tony asked, aware of how choked his voice sounded. He felt like he was suffocating, and his grip on Peter’s shoulders was beginning to falter.

“Only one more rib to go”, Friday provided. “Then he will be sore, but not in as much pain. You can let go after the final rib is back in place, boss”.

“Dad, help me”, Peter sobbed, voice small and high-pitched, eyes shut tightly and completely disoriented from the fever and the pain. Tony’s mouth hung open at the plea and he stared at Peter with wide, shocked eyes for moments that felt like an eternity. Before Peter could attempt to shift back into a fetal position again, the last broken rib mended itself with a sickening crack and the boy screamed, the terrible sound embedding itself to Tony’s brain in a way that would most definitely haunt his nightmares for a long time. Peter’s body immediately relaxed on the bed, now that his pain was finally over, and his head lolled to the side, limply. He was panting heavily, and so was Tony, but for two entirely different reasons.

Tony got back to his feet, letting go of Peter and taking several steps away from the bed as if he had been burned. He was gasping and shaking from anxiety and ran a trembling hand down his face, trying to recompose himself as he sniffed. It was over now. Peter would be ok. It was over now. His powers were back, his ribs were fixed and his pain was gone. _It was over now_. However, no matter how many times Tony repeated the words in his head like a mantra, he was completely sure that he wouldn’t be able to forget the sound of Peter’s screams any time soon. Or _ever again_ , for that matter.

“F-Friday, status – give me; give me his stats”, Tony asked, opening and closing his hands into fists as if to cease the trembling and shaking. He took one of his fisted hands to his nose in an attempt to wipe the still flowing blood away.

“He’s stabilizing”, Friday supplied after a few moments of analyzing data. “His ribs are mending together and should be fully healed in a couple of hours. His back will be sore for a while, but his health should be back to 100% until the end of the day”.

Tony let out a relieved sigh and ran both hands down his face, shoulders dropping, throwing himself against his chair heavily. He used the minutes of silence in which Peter was passed out to do a breathing exercise, in an attempt to ease his anxiety down. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t work completely, but by the time Peter started to regain his consciousness, Tony wasn’t shaking as badly as he had been before.

Peter blinked his eyes open sluggishly and looked around in confusion for a while before he found Tony sitting by his bedside, eyes fixed on him like a hawk. A trembling fist was covering Tony’s mouth, and there was dry blood coating his upper lip and his chin. A bruise was already blossoming on the bridge of his nose and beneath his eyes.

“Ouch”, was the first thing Peter said once he regained full awareness, voice croaked, raspy and small from all the screaming. Tony stared at him with squinted eyes.

“Yeah. Ouch”, he said simply, eyes never leaving Peter. “How are you?”

“I’m –“, Peter said, attempting to sit down and managing to do so with only a bit of difficulty. He made a face as he managed to lean his back against the wall to prop himself up, but other than that, he looked a lot healthier than a few hours before. He held a hand to his ribs as he spoke, as if to ensure that they would stay in place. “I’m actually… a lot better. Are – are my powers back?”, he frowned, taking a hand to his face as if to find out whether he was able to see because he was wearing glasses or because he had his powers again. Once he found no glasses on his face, his eyes widened.

“Yes”, Tony said, even though Peter had already figured it out on his own.

“I’m – I don’t –“, he hesitated, looking down on himself and frowning as if he was trying to figure out what had happened to him. “U-Usually the healing doesn’t hurt this much”, he commented after some time. Tony snorted out a laugh that didn’t have an ounce of humor in it. In fact, he realized that he felt a lot more like crying than laughing, even though he wasn’t entirely sure of the reason why.

“It’s probably because Peter’s healing capacities usually kick in as soon as he is injured, whereas this time, they could only act _after_ he had been injured for a while due to the serum’s effect”, Friday explained in Tony’s earpiece. “Mending broken bones together hours after they break is a lot more painful then mending them together right away, while the adrenaline is still in effect”.

“Friday says it’s because you could only heal yourself _hours_ after your bones broke, when the adrenaline had already worn off”, Tony explained, realizing that Peter hadn’t heard the AI’s response. “Usually, when you heal yourself, it’s right away. So this time, it was more painful”.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, t-that makes sense”, Peter nodded nervously, outstretching his hands in front of him and giving himself a look over. He was still shaking a bit and panting, but he looked extremely relieved that he wasn’t in so much pain anymore, and the boyish jolliness that seemed to be so often found in him was back in his eyes. He raised his head, smiling at Tony as if he had never felt better in his life, but the smile soon died in his eyes as soon as he caught sight of the billionaire. Tony was still holding one hand to his mouth in an attempt to make it stop shaking, and his eyes were pooling with tears – and they weren’t there only because his nose had been broken. He could barely breathe as it was, and he knew that there was a panic attack incoming. “Mr. Stark?”, Peter frowned, worried, leaning forwards on his bed so that he could take a better look at Tony. “Are you ok? You’re – your nose is bleeding”, he pointed out, eyes widening in shock.

“I’m ok”, Tony said, but his tone sounded fake even to his own ears. The tightness in his chest reappeared, and he got up from the chair before he could lose his cool in front of Peter, who had flinched at his response as if it had been unexpectedly loud.

“Mr. Stark!”, Peter called after him, but Tony stumbled back and nearly lost balance. He _knew_ that he was on the verge of a panic attack, even though there was no reason to – Peter was safe now, and healthy, and not in pain. But still, his body refused to listen to his rationality and he found himself struggling to breathe, especially because his nose was covered in blood and it was burning a lot. He pinched it, trying to put it back in place before it was too late, and even though he wasn’t a trained professional, he knew that he wouldn’t bother to go to a hospital _just_ to get his nose fixed. With a tiny, painful crack, Tony readjusted his nose with an experience that was out of habit, sniffing several times before turning back to look at Peter, who was standing behind him with a worried look on his face. Tony looked at Peter from head to toe, as if he couldn’t quite believe the boy’s audacity at standing up right after being injured for so long.

“What _exactly_ do you think you’re doing?”, Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter, tilting his head in an indignant way. Seeing the boy on his feet wasn’t doing wonders for his anxiety.

“You’re – you’re bleeding, I just thought I should help –“, Peter tried to explain, gesturing at Tony.

“Get. Back. To. _Bed_ ”, Tony said, closing his eyes for a few seconds as if to keep himself from snapping. Peter winced at Tony’s tone, as if the billionaire had screamed the words inside his ear instead of saying them in a normal tone, and he sat down at the edge of the bed, fingers picking at the edge of his shirt as he watched Tony with nervousness and worry. “Jesus, kid, your sense of self-preservation is so incredibly inexistent that it’s _off limits_. And that’s coming from _me_ ”, he commented, sitting back down at the chair that had become his refuge in the long hours he had been spending at Peter’s apartment.

“I’m – I was just trying to help”, Peter admitted, wincing again. “I – I was – _ouch_ ”, he winced again, shutting his eyes closed and flinching at nothing.

“What is it?”, Tony asked, worried. His heart wouldn’t be able to handle it if Peter threw another fit at him. In fact, he suspected his heart wouldn’t be able to handle it if Peter as much as _sneezed_ beside him. He genuinely thought the kid had been dying on him mere moments before, and he certainly wasn’t used to feeling such intense concern for a person in such a short span of time.

“I think – I think it’s my – my senses”, Peter tried to explain, flinching again. “Sorry, uh, could you – could you maybe keep your voice down?”, he asked, sounding a bit embarrassed.

“My voice _is_ down”, Tony replied, but when Peter winced as soon as he opened his mouth, Tony decided to let it fall shut. He vaguely remembered Peter saying something about getting sensory overload when he first gained his powers – which was why he used to wear those ridiculous swimming glasses with his first suit. To filter the input he received, or something of that kind. If Peter was going through the experience of gaining his powers a second time, then it was very probable that he would go through that type of overload again, which also explained why he had been in such pain as he healed.

“Oh my god”, Peter muttered under his breath, trying to cover both ears with his hands. “I’d forgotten how _loud_ everything is. Sorry, Mr. Stark, I just –”, he raised his head to look at Tony, but ended up blinking several times at him as if there was something in his eyes.

“You just decided to take the day to give me a heart attack, didn’t you”, Tony sighed with resignation and shook his head, getting back to his feet. He bent down to grab the half-forgotten first aid kit from the floor, withdrawing two pieces of cotton and shoving them up his nostrils to stanch the still flowing blood. Every minimal movement he made seemed to bother Peter, who kept flinching until Tony put the first aid kit away again. He watched the boy in silence for a while before making a decision. “Ok. I’m taking you to the compound”, he announced, which made Peter look up, despite of his pained look.

“W-What?”, he asked, idly itching at his forearm.

“The Avengers Compound?”, Tony raised an eyebrow at Peter, standing in front of him. “There’s a room there precisely designed against sensory overload, which I assume is what you’re going through right now. Don’t worry, you’re gonna love it. C’mon”, he waved a hand at Peter, gesturing for him to stand up. Tony had put on his nonchalant façade again, and was using his most neutral tone of voice, despite of the still erratic beating of his heart. Peter hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet, still itching at his arm.

Tony had thought about taking Peter to the compound before, but the kid had been too injured to make such a long journey, especially since Tony had planned to take him there using the Iron Man suit. Now that Peter was better, the trip would still be extensive, but at least it wouldn’t be painful.

“Is that – is that a new laptop?!”, Peter frowned, noticing that his desk was covered by a lot of new tech that he didn’t recognize as he followed Tony into the living room of his apartment. Tony spared him a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Yeah. You were in dire need of an upgrade”, he said simply, pressing some buttons on his phone. The Iron Man suit, which was standing in sentinel mode in the middle of Peter’s living room, came to life and opened up so that Tony could step in. Peter, who was still distracted by all the tech in his room, found himself incredibly bothered by the whining and whirring sounds that the suit made as it closed itself around Tony, turning his attention back to his mentor. It was hard to focus on only one thing at the time, because his senses were receiving a lot of information all at once, but he tried his best to walk his way to the living room without stumbling on his own feet because of the intense vibrations of the building around him.

Peter winced in pain with every step he took, trying really hard to block out all the input his five senses were receiving at the same time and failing to do so. He ended up falling to his knees as soon as he reached the living room, because everything was too much and reality felt detached. He could hear all the people from at least three blocks away, all speaking at the same time, and he could smell their perfumes and incenses and food being cooked. He could see all the different shades of red of Tony’s suit, and he could sense the vibrations of the people moving around his apartment building, along with the very air touching his skin. Only now that Peter was being forced to go through this experience again was that he remember how much it had _sucked_ to have his powers in the first day, all those months ago. He had thought he was losing his mind at first, until he got used to all his expanded senses, and now he was being forced to live through all of that again.

It took him a long time to realize that Tony was crouching in front of him and speaking to him for god-knows-how-long, and Peter’s attention only snapped back to the billionaire when he touched a hand to his shoulder. Tony had simply reached towards him to call his attention, but the gauntlet on Peter’s skin felt like an explosion of sensations that shouldn’t have been painful, or itchy, but that were so that all the same. He couldn’t focus on Tony’s words, having so many voices talking over him simultaneously, so he found himself saying:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark, this is all too much, and you really didn’t need to buy me new tech”. His voice was way more shaky and choked than he would have liked it to sound.

Tony was already inside the suit and his faceplate was open to reveal his incredulous face. He squinted at Peter, tilting his head.

“Did you hear _anything_ I just said?”, he asked, and the only reason Peter understood his words were because he read his lips. There were just _too many sounds_. He shook his head in response, still covering his ears with his hands. His ribs were still achy, but none of it compared to the intense pain he had felt before. “I said this isn’t going to be pleasant”, Tony repeated himself, speaking slowly as if Peter would be able to understand him better if he did so. Which actually helped a lot, since Peter was majorly reading Tony’s lips, rather than listening to his words. “But we’ll get there a lot faster with the suit. It’s a long way from here and I’ll have to carry you, so _don’t. struggle_ ”.

Peter only had time to swallow dry and nod before Tony’s faceplate closed and he stood up, reaching to grab him. Every single instinct in Peter’s body screamed at him to dodge, to prevent Iron Man from grabbing a hold of him, but rationally, he knew that it would be better to be in a room that protected him from all the stimuli he was receiving than to stay there in the middle of New York. Still, he couldn’t help but to flinch as soon as Iron Man’s hands grasped him, holding him from beneath the armpits as if Peter was a stray cat. Peter threw his arms around Tony’s neck and closed his legs around him like a toddler, and he would have felt extremely embarrassed for this, had it not been for the thousand other things he was feeling at that exact same time. Before he could ask Tony how the hell they were supposed to fly out of the tiny apartment, everything shifted and Peter grew so dizzy that he could barely keep his eyes open. He was so disoriented by his senses and by the sudden movement that he didn’t even realize they were out of the window and flying towards the sky, the city becoming smaller and smaller beneath them, until he finally computed that the weird feeling making his face tingle was a cold breeze. How Tony had managed to exit through the window without breaking it was beyond Peter, but he had probably used the same maneuver when he brought Peter in.

The only time Peter had even been so high up was when he Vulture captured him and dropped him in the lake. The thought wasn’t exactly pleasant, and it brought back a lot of bad memories that Peter often tried really hard to suppress. His first instinct was to struggle against the person holding him, but aware that he would probably end up falling to his death if Tony let go of him, he let himself be held, and in fact, clung more tightly to the Iron Man suit as if to ensure that he would fall. However, he knew that Tony would never, _ever_ drop him, so even though the metal hands holding him were cold and painful against his sensitive skin, he managed to relax a little.

Despite of that, the high altitude added to the cold wind on his skin and the intensity of information his brain was receiving only made Peter grow dizzier by the second, until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He was starting to get into that dissociative feeling of being detached from reality, and his body was receiving so much input that it stopped feeling like his body altogether. Once his lids closed, he was filled with relief, because at least _one_ of his heightened senses was smothered, but that only made him even more disconnected from everything else happening around him. Tony could have shouted in his ear at that very moment, and Peter wouldn’t have heard it. He didn’t think he fell asleep, at least not entirely, but he didn’t remember arriving at the facility, either. It was possible that he passed out at some point during the trip, because the next time he opened his eyes, he was lying down in a bed and everything was peacefully quiet.

Peter jolted from the bed in shock, looking around in confusion. Just a moment ago he had been flying right above New York with Tony, and now he was in this strange place. He sat on the bed and looked around, trying to recognize his surroundings and failing to do so. The room he was at was completely empty of furniture, apart from the bed, and its walls and floor were white and cushioned. The lights were dimly lit and Peter realized that there was no overload there – no vibrations, or sounds, or smells to overwhelm him. He blinked dumbly at the walls for a while, not sure of what to do with himself.

How much time had passed ever since he left his apartment with Mr. Stark? Had it been minutes? Had it been days? There was no way Peter could tell, and the thought upset him. Was Aunt May back in town already? Did she _know_ where Peter was? These doubts resulted on Peter kicking away the covers that were neatly placed around him and stepping away from the bed with no difficulty. Blinking in surprise at the lack of pain, Peter realized that his ribs and back were fully healed, not protesting at his every movement or breath anymore. His relief made itself evident in his face, as he poked at his ribs and felt nothing.

His feet didn’t hurt when they came in contact with the cushioned floor, and his skin didn’t itch when he got out of bed. He decided to stretch himself like a cat just to make sure that his bones and muscles were all in their proper place, and once he was satisfied with his restored mobility, he walked over to the door of the room, taking hesitant steps. He was relieved when the door opened without offering any resistance as soon as he twisted the doorknob.

He flinched in discomfort as soon as he stepped out of the room, for the bright light of the hallway and the sounds of electricity running through the walls were more intense than he was used to. However, after leaning against the wall behind him for some moments to regain his composure, Peter found that his senses weren’t as overwhelmed as before. He could still feel the vibrations around him, but they weren’t unbearable to the point of paralyzing him. He could still hear sounds that he wouldn’t have been able to normally hear, but that wasn’t enough to make him cover his ears in sheer despair. Overall, he was feeling a lot better than before, and even though everything was still a little bit too intense and sharp, he could handle it better than he had when he first woke up back in Queens.

He wandered around aimlessly for a while, never having been to the Avengers Facility before. Even though he hadn’t taken a proper look at the place yet, he could tell how _huge_ it was just from the amount of doors in the corridors. He didn’t know exactly where to go to or what to do with himself, so after he turned three different corners that let him to even more corridors and an empty common area, he decided to call for help.

“F-Friday?”, Peter asked, hesitation clear in his tone.

“Hello, Peter”, Friday immediately responded, her voice coming from the ceiling. Peter jolted in surprise, even though he _had_ been expecting the AI to respond. “I’m glad to see you are well again. What can I do for you?”

“Are we – am I at the Avengers compound?”, he asked, not sure where he was supposed to look at as he spoke to the AI.

“Yes”, Friday said. “You are currently at the second floor of the Avengers Facility”.

“This is _so cool_ ”, Peter couldn’t help but to smile, looking around in awe, even though all he could see were doors. “Oh my god, are these the Avengers’ rooms?”, he asked, pointing at the doors behind him in the corridor.

“Yes. You are currently standing in the corridor that contains Black Widow’s, Hawkeye’s and Falcon’s personal rooms. Would you like to visit them?”

“ _Can_ I?”, Peter’s jaw dropped in excitement.

“Not really”, Friday said, and if Peter didn’t know that she was an artificial intelligence, he would have though she was teasing him. Actually, she _could_ have been teasing him – Tony had designed her, after all. “But I could call them and request for a special clearance for you, if you want”.

“What? _No_!”, Peter immediately protested, horrified by the suggestion. What could possibly be weirder than having an AI call you in the middle of the night to ask if a teenage boy could go snooping around your personal room in the Avengers Facility? On the top of all that, no one even _knew_ where Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Falcon were after the whole issue with the Sokovia Accords. Thinking about that made Peter realize that: Tony was probably a whole lot lonelier in that gigantic Avengers compound, since most of the Avengers were gone; and that Friday had a _terrible_ sense of humor. “D-Don’t _call_ anyone, just –“, Peter hesitated, nervous. “Is – is Mr. Stark here?”, he asked.

“Boss is currently asleep at his own room in the compound. Would you like me to wake him up?”, she asked.

“No, no, no, don’t wake him up”, Peter immediately protested, eyes widening. Tony was probably exhausted after spending so many hours looking after Peter when he was injured, and the last thing he would want was to disrupt him. Even if Tony _hadn’t_ taken care of him, Peter wouldn’t want to disrupt him. He wasn’t exactly familiar with Tony’s personal routine, but even so, he could tell that sleeping well wasn’t exactly a frequent habit of his mentor’s. “Don’t – don’t wake him up. Just – I mean, what day is it?”, he itched the back of his neck.

“It’s Saturday night. You were asleep for one hour and fifty five minutes”, Friday provided. Peter blinked in surprise, computing Friday’s words.

“ _Really_?”, he asked, barely managing to keep the astonishment from his tone. “I feel a lot better; I thought I had been asleep for days”, he admitted, frowning.

“Are you still experiencing sensory overload?”, Friday asked, interested. “Would you like me to dim the lights?”

“No, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine”, Peter said, raising his hands for a moment, even though he wasn’t entirely sure Friday could see him. “Is there, um. Is there anyone else at the compound?”

“Colonel Rhodes is at the common room on the first floor”, Friday informed him. “He has been notified that you are awake and is waiting for you there. Turn the corner on your right, walk down the stairs, enter the first door to your left and you will find him”.

“Aw, man”, Peter muttered under his breath, dropping his shoulders in disappointment. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Rhodes, or had something against him – it was just that he had never gotten to know the man properly. Back in Germany, Peter never saw Rhodes before the battle in the airport, and given his injury and subsequent rushed exit afterwards, he never got the chance to meet him officially. He had been hoping that Friday would give him a tour through the Avengers Facility while Tony was asleep, but now that she had notified Rhodes that he was awake, Peter had no other choice other than go meet him.

He felt a little nervous about meeting Rhodes without a proper introduction by Tony, because he had _no_ idea what to expect from the guy. Peter was aware that Rhodes was Tony’s best friend, but other than that, and that he was War Machine, he didn’t know a lot about him. Rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants as if to dry them, Peter followed Friday’s instructions and made his way to the common room, feeling a bit more nervous than necessary. This wasn’t a big deal, he told himself. This was just another superhero. A superhero who happened to be _Tony Stark’s best friend_ and who could possibly end Peter’s career as Spider-Man if he as much as blinked in a way he found wrong. He took a deep breath and entered the room, trying his best to hide his nervousness.

Rhodes was sitting in the large sofa in the middle of the common room, playing a game Peter immediately recognized as Portal 2 on the gigantic television screen in front of him. Peter’s heart leaped in excitement as he recognized the game, since it was one of his favorites, but he did his best to keep his cool as he stood a few feet behind Rhodes and waited for the man to acknowledge his presence. However, Rhodes seemed to be too immersed in the game to ever think of looking back and checking for Peter’s arrival, but before the boy could do something embarrassing like clearing his throat to call his attention, Friday, the saint, intervened.

“Mr. Parker is here, Colonel”, she said discretely, which made Peter mouth a silent ‘thank you’ at the ceiling, hoping that the AI would capture it. Rhodes paused the game and turned his head to look at Peter, who was standing awkwardly at the door of the common room.

“Ah, Peter”, Rhodes said conversationally, standing up from the couch with a bit of difficulty. Peter noticed the device attached to the man’s legs all the way from up his waist, but tried not to stare at it, aware that it had been designed by Tony to aid his friend to walk after the incident in the airport. Rhodes limped over to where Peter was standing and outstretched a hand towards him, which Peter took and shook firmly. This earned a surprised glance from Rhodes, who raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a small smile. “Firm grip. I like that”, he pointed a finger at Peter. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Officially, I mean”, he added, tapping a friendly hand on Peter’s shoulder now that the pleasantries of their first encounter had been bypassed.

“It’s – it’s nice to meet you too, sir”, Peter said, hating how hesitant and tense his words sounded. Rhodes, however, let out a laugh, gesturing for Peter to follow him back to the couch.

“Oh, c’mon, you can drop the formalities”, he said, throwing himself back on the couch and grabbing his joystick. Peter followed him suit, but his posture was more tense and polite than Rhodes’ comfortable, familiar one. “Call me Rhodes. Or Rhodey, whatever suits you best. Tony talks about you so much that it kind of feels like you’re family already”, he shrugged, going back to playing the game. Peter’s eyes widened.

“He – he does?”, he couldn’t help but to ask, surprised by the information. Rhodes sighed and had the decency to look regretful, almost as if that was a secret he shouldn’t have let slip.

“Yeah… Don’t tell him I told you that, ok?”, he said, giving Peter a quick glance. “You know how he is. Not really good at this whole talking-about-feelings thing. But he never really shuts up about you, so…”, he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders helplessly as if he thought that if Tony didn’t want him to tell Peter about this, then he shouldn’t have talked so much about Peter in the first place. “You like Portal?”, he changed subjects, glancing at Peter again and nodding at the TV screen. Peter tried to hold back from grinning, not wanting to look too childish by being overly enthusiastic about a video game, but he couldn’t help but to keep the excitement from his eyes, especially not after learning that _Mr. Stark talked a lot about him to his best friend._ He was dying to know what Tony said to Rhodes, but he didn’t really know the man enough to feel comfortable asking. He nodded at Rhodes, managing to offer him a simple smile instead. “Yeah, I figured out you would. You can play if you want to”, Rhodes shrugged, nodding at the spare joystick sitting on the couch. Peter grabbed it, trying to hold back his excitement, and started to play with Rhodes.

“So… are you feeling better?”, Rhodes asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “You looked pretty shaken up when you arrived”, he explained.

“Oh, no, no, I’m better now”, Peter said, nodding and actually feeling a bit surprised that Rhodey had seen him arrive at the Facility. He had no memory of how it had happened. “I just needed to rest for a bit”.

“Tony told me what happened”, Rhodes added after a few moments. “Are you sure you’re good? I could ask Friday to dim the lights or lower the volume, if you want”, he offered. Peter felt himself blush in embarrassment at all the attention he was receiving, and started to feel a bit too vulnerable again.

“No, no, no, it’s ok”, he chuckled nervously, trying to play it cool. It was true that he was still feeling a bit more oversensitive than usual – the colors on the TV were too intense, and every sound effect that happened to be too sudden or too loud made him hold back a surprised flinch –, but he was feeling infinitely better than before. It was as if his two-hour-long power-nap had restored him completely to full health – he could barely feel any pain in his ribs and on his back, and the sensorial stimulation he was experiencing was nothing he couldn’t deal with. “I’m really feeling a lot better. It was just a matter of… getting used to having powers again”, he shrugged, trying to explain it as simply as he could.

“Was it like that in the first time too?”, Rhodes raised a curious eyebrow at him.

“Yeah”, Peter nodded awkwardly. “Except in the first time I didn’t have anyone put me in an anti-sensorial room, so it was a lot worse”, he snorted humorously. Despite of the initial awkwardness of meeting Rhodes, Peter was starting to feel more comfortable around him. He seemed like a good person, and he was definitely trying his best to make Peter feel at home at the empty, unfamiliar compound.

“Ah, yeah, I can imagine that”, Rhodes nodded in sympathy. “How did you like your stay?”

“Oh, oh, the room is amazing”, Peter nodded politely, eyebrows raised. “It _completely_ blocked out everything that was overwhelming me. I actually don’t remember how I got here, though?”, he commented, a bit hesitant, hoping that Rhodes could clear him up on that matter.

“That’s reasonable; you were pretty out of it”, Rhodes shrugged. “Friday says it’s because your brain was receiving too much information at once, so you kind of… tuned everything out. It kind of looked like you were asleep, even though you weren’t actually sleeping. That got Tony pretty freaked out, I’ll give you that”, he chuckled.

“Oh”, Peter said, taken aback by that information. “I… I didn’t mean to”.

“Nah, he’ll be fine. He just worries about you”, Rhodes said, eyeing Peter. The boy tried his best not to blush in embarrassment, but he could feel the blood raising to his cheeks despite of his attempts. He stared straight at the TV in front of him, not daring to face Rhodes. “He’ll be glad to see you’re back to your feet”, the man added, trying to be reassuring.

“Friday said he was asleep?”, Peter asked, not sure what else he could probably say.

“Yeah, I had to force him to take a nap after everything that happened”, Rhodes explained. “He’s basically a man child and he never sleeps unless someone makes him, especially when he’s stressed out. Also, he could use the rest, after all he’s been through during the past day. You’ve got a mean swing, by the way”, he pointed out with an impressed look. Peter frowned.

“W-What?”, he asked, not really understanding what Rhodes meant by that. Rhodes frowned at him, confused by Peter’s confusion, until his face fell and he assumed an apologetic expression.

“Oh”, he said simply. “You don’t remember”.

“Remember what?”, Peter’s frown deepened, and he started to feel anxious. He _hated_ not remembering things he did while he dissociated. Rhodes grimaced as if the last thing he wanted was to explain those things to Peter at that moment, but _not_ explaining would only create unnecessary tension. Sighing and throwing his head back, he recomposed himself before turning to face Peter on the couch.

“You kind of, accidentally, _totally unintentionally_ punched Tony on the nose when he was trying to help you sooner”, he explained, and noticing the way Peter’s eyes widened in shock, immediately added: “But he’s ok! His nose is fine, and he definitely doesn’t blame you for that. It was an accident”.

“That’s why he was bleeding”, Peter said to himself in a low voice, taken aback, remembering that Tony’s nose had been bleeding but he couldn’t figure out why, with all the pain, confusion and amount of information he had been dealing with. Guilt blossomed in his chest, heavy and bitter, as he came upon the realization that Tony had done nothing but help him and take care of him and Peter had thanked him by _breaking his nose_.

“Oh my _god_ ”, Rhodes complained, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He sighed heavily and dropped his shoulders before going back to playing the game. “I can _totally_ see why Tones likes you so much”, he scoffed. “You both have the same unjustified guilt complex”.

Peter opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of an appropriate response but finding none. He stared at Rhodes for a few silent seconds before going back to playing the game with him, even though neither his heart nor his mind were paying attention to the task at hands.

“Look, kid”, Rhodes said after a while, not pausing the game and not looking at Peter. “He doesn’t blame you, ok? It was an accident. You were unconscious and in pain and he was trying to hold you down. It was only natural that you tried to defend yourself. No need to feel guilty”, he shrugged. “He only went upstairs to sleep because I told him to. And I told him to because I knew he was going to overwork himself as a way to cope with everything that happened otherwise. That’s what he _does_ ”.

“Still, I – I… I’d like to apologize to him”, Peter admitted, head low. “He saved my life, and… I punched him in the face in return”, he sunk on the couch.

“Yeah, he’ll probably come downstairs soon, so you can apologize then if that’ll make you feel better”, Rhodes sighed, sounding like he was tired of dealing with other people’s guilt. He muttered something under his breath that Peter couldn’t quite understand, not even with his enhanced hearing, and focused back on playing the game. “So, you go to Midtown, huh?”, he added, trying to make small talk with Peter.

Peter continued to play with Rhodes, engaging in small, light conversation with him, but his heart and his mind were elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about punching Tony, about being vulnerable and weak and injured under the man’s care only to hurt him in return. He knew that it hadn’t been his fault that he punched him – he would have _never_ done that on purpose –, but he still felt the urgent need to tell his mentor that. There were also things that he couldn’t quite make sense of – words and memories that he wasn’t sure if had actually happened, or if were simply a result of feverish delusions. Some of the stuff he vaguely remembered was too embarrassing for him to ask Tony about, and he only hoped they had been a dream, and not reality.

Almost an hour passed of Peter gaming with Rhodes and occasionally conversing with him before Peter’s more-tuned-than-ever spider-sense warned him that Tony was approaching the room. He turned on the couch before the man could walk through the door of the common room, which sort-of surprised Rhodes but simply earned a raise of eyebrow from Tony. Peter immediately paused the game and jumped to his feet on impulse, before realizing that he was probably showing too much excitement about finally seeing his mentor. Tony was wearing a bandage around his bruised nose and a Black Sabbath sweater, and spared Rhodes and Peter a simple glance before walking over to the kitchen right behind the common room without saying a word. Peter’s smile withered on his face and he looked at Rhodes with confusion and a question on his face. Rhodes gestured vaguely at him, a silent apology in his eyes, as if that was just an everyday Tony behavior.

Peter simply stood there for a while, unsure as to whether he should sit back down on the couch and wait or walk over to where Tony was making something in the kitchen. Rhodes went back to playing by himself, but sparing several curious glances to Peter over the course of half a minute, paused it again and sighed in resignation.

“All _right_ , Spider-Man, let’s go”, he groaned as he got to his feet with some difficulty and, without waiting to see if Peter would follow, walked over to the kitchen. “Hey, Tones”, he greeted once he approached his best friend. “Sleep well?”

“How could I have _not_ slept well when you so lovingly forced those pills down my throat?”, Tony asked sarcastically, not bothering to look at Rhodes. As Peter approached the kitchen, Tony spared him a quick sideways glance before turning back to whatever he was doing. “Hi, kid”, he greeted, sounding completely untroubled, even though his shoulders were tenser than they should be. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I – I’m feeling better, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, awkward. Rhodes raised an eyebrow at him, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to call Tony ‘ _Mr. Stark_ ’. “Thank you. And – and s-sorry”, he added immediately. Tony frowned.

“Thank you or sorry? Pick one”, he said, raising a judgmental eyebrow at him, and Peter finally looked past Tony’s shoulder enough to see that the thing occupying him so much was coffee. Tony was _brewing coffee_. Which felt very out of place, since it was probably late evening.

“Thank you for – for you know, saving my life, and taking care of me, and sorry for – your, your nose”, he shrugged, gesturing at Tony’s face with a hand that he immediately crossed above his chest. “I really didn’t mean to, and I’m sorry. I don’t even remember doing it”, he tried to justify. “Is… Is that coffee?”, Peter asked, trying to change subjects but also worried about Tony’s health.

Tony turned to look at him, leaning his back on the kitchen counter as he waited for the coffee to brew. The bruise on his nose was spreading from the bridge all the way to the bags beneath his eyes, and seeing it from so up close made Peter feel even guiltier.

“It’s ok, kid”, Tony waved a dismissive hand after a few silent moments of analyzing Peter’s face. “I know you didn’t mean to. You really are stronger than you let on, though”, he scoffed, an impressed look similar to Rhodes’ on his face.

“Sorry”, Peter said again, voice smaller this time, dropping his head in embarrassment and guilt.

“What are you two up to?”, Tony turned to Rhodes, tilting his head.

“Just playing Portal”, Rhodes said, walking over to Tony and standing beside him, arms crossed above his chest and an unreadable look in his eyes.

“Hm”, Tony hummed under his breath, a pensive look on his face. He looked like he had asked that to Rhodes more out of politeness than anything else, because there was no interest in his tone. “Good for you. Did you like the room, kid?”, he addressed Peter, turning towards him.

“Huh?”, Peter raised his head, confused.

“The room. The one I brought you all the way from Queens to stay at. The anti-sensorial one. Did you like it?”, he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Oh! Yes, yes, I did, Mr. Stark”, Peter immediately nodded. “It was really good. I – I feel a lot better now. But – I mean, why do you have a sensory deprivation room in the Avengers Facility?”, he asked, vocalizing a question that had been lingering inside his mind for a while now.

“ _Ugh_ , don’t call it _that_ ”, Tony huffed out a breath, grimacing. “And I have it because sometimes Bruce feels a bit too stressed out and needs a quiet place to meditate and keep himself from turning into a green rage monster. It was either that or have him Hulk-out every time he couldn’t figure out the answer to a math problem”, he shrugged. “Or… it would have been, if he bothered to show up in the past two years”, he added bitterly, turning around to see if his coffee was ready. Finding that it had finished brewing, Tony opened the cabinet above him to retrieve his mug, while Rhodey grabbed hold of the coffee pot.

“I’m sure he’ll come around soon enough”, Rhodey said in a flat voice, disposing all the fresh coffee Tony had brewed down the sink without breaking eye contact with his best friend. Tony, who was still in the process of retrieving his mug from the cabinet, froze with his arm outstretched upwards, giving Rhodes a glare that managed to be indignant and deadly at the same time.

“Really?”, Tony raised his eyebrows, eyes darting between his best friend’s face and the still fuming coffee running down the drain. He lowered his arms and turned back to Rhodes. “ _Really?_ ”

“It’s almost _midnight_ , Tony. You’re not drinking _coffee_ at _midnight_ ”, he scolded, shaking his head as if he didn’t quite believe Tony’s audacity. “Jesus, it’s like I’m living with a preteen”.

“You could have said something _before_ I brewed it”, Tony complained as Rhodes turned his back on him and walked out of the kitchen and back into the common area. “Instead of wasting it and pouring it down the sink. You’re a menace to the environment!”, he shouted after the man.

“You would have just ignored me”, Rhodes retorted from the couch, sounding like he was arguing with a child. He grabbed hold of his joystick and went back to gaming.

“You’re damn right I would”, Tony huffed under his breath. “Mother hen”, he mumbled. Resigned, he closed the cabinet above his head and opened the fridge beside him, staring at its contents for a while, before pulling out two cans that Peter couldn’t quite identify. “Soda?”, Tony offered, waving one of the cans.

“Uh”, Peter blinked, hesitating. “Uh, yeah, sure”, he nodded, catching the cup midair as Tony threw it at him. He opened it with a pop and took a sip, whereas Tony simply held his without opening it. He watched Peter with intense eyes for a while, as if he was trying to analyze his health status from simply looking at him, before flexing his shoulders and gesturing at Peter.

“You’re coming with me to the workshop, I want to run some tests on you”, he announced, leaving no place for a discussion. Before Peter could say something, he was already turning on his heels and walking away from the kitchen, leaving Peter no option other than to follow him.

“Where are you two going?”, Rhodes asked suspiciously as they walked past the couch on the common room, not taking his eyes from the TV.

“Workshop”, Tony said simply, waving a dismissive hand and not looking back at his friend. He sounded almost betrayed.

“I sure hope that’s not energetic on your hand”, Rhodes shouted after them, but Tony was already stepping inside the elevator, closing the door behind them after Peter followed him suit. Sparing a simple glance at the can in Tony’s hand, Peter noticed that it was, indeed, energetic.

“So, how do you like the facility?”, Tony asked after a couple of moments of awkward silence. Peter, who wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do with his hands, gave him a surprised look before nodding his head and responding.

“It’s… it’s really nice, Mr. Stark”, he said, feeling inadequate. For some reason, he felt more embarrassed than usual around Tony. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Tony had basically gone out of his way to make sure Peter recovered; maybe it had to do with the fact that he had spent hours taking care of Peter when he was at his most vulnerable. Tony gave an offended look at his response.

“ _Nice_?”, he asked, indignant, as if he had been expecting a long description of how much Peter had loved the place.

“It – it’s just”, Peter laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t really get the chance to see much of it yet”, he admitted with honesty. He _had_ been hoping for a tour, if he was being honest, but he knew that this was probably not an appropriate moment to bring that up. He had just gone through the very painful and traumatic experience of losing his powers and getting them back, and receiving a tour of the Avengers Facility immediately after waking up was hardly the most reasonable expectation he could create.

“Don’t worry, I’ll have Friday give you the whole tour tomorrow morning”, Tony said, stepping out of the elevator once it pinged and opened. Peter’s heartrate sped up as he followed Tony out of the elevator and into the hall right outside the workshop, peeking inside its large glass walls and gazing in awe at everything inside. There were several equipment and devices that Peter would have never dreamed of getting close to a year before, and that were now just in front of his very eyes. He gawked with his jaw dropped as he entered the workshop, eyes wide with excitement and admiration. “Right now I just want to run some tests to make sure everything’s alright with you, and then you can grab a room on the second floor to spend the night. Your aunt won’t be back until tomorrow evening, right?”, Tony continued talking, back turned to Peter and completely unaware that the boy had stopped in his tracks, staring dumbfoundedly at all the equipment in the shop. Upon Peter’s lack of response, Tony turned around to look at him, an eyebrow raised. “Kid? Are you listening to me?”, he asked, feigning being offended by Peter’s lack of attention on him. Peter blinked his eyes several times as if waking from a trance, turning to look at Tony with an enchanted gaze and a bright smile.

“S-Sorry, Mr. Stark, I was just – this is so – this is _really_ –“, he smiled broadly, stumbling over his words, unable to find any that could properly describe the way he was feeling. This was his _childhood dream_ come true! Not just being a superhero, not _just_ being in the Avengers Facility, but being in _Tony Stark’s personal workshop_. It was true that Peter had always admired and been a great fan of Iron Man, but he had also always been a fan of _Tony Stark_. And this was _his_ workshop! The place where he came up with all of his designs, all his new ideas, all his new Iron Man suits! Oh, god, had he designed _Peter’s suit_ at this very workshop? “This is really, really amazing, Mr. Stark, _oh my god_ , is that a holotable? Do you make your new suits here? Did you make _my_ suit here? Where do you keep –“, he couldn’t help but to blurt out several questions, looking around the shop and trying to commit every detail to his memory.

“Ok, kid, calm down”, Tony cut him off, shoving his hands inside his pockets and giving Peter a crooked, smug smile. Despite of his tone, he still looked pleased to see Peter was enjoying himself in his workshop. This kid was truly a nerd, being more excited about Tony’s shop than he had been about the whole damn _Avengers Facility_. Tony couldn’t hold back from letting out a tiny snort of pride and affection at Peter hopping around excitedly, so clearly trying to control himself as if not to overstep an inexistent boundary, but wanting to check everything out at the same time. At Tony’s words, Peter turned to look at him, expectation in his eyes. Tony did his best to maintain a neutral face. “I can show you around later, but first I want to see how those ribs are doing. Lie down”, he gestured at the holotable behind Peter, finally opening his can of energetic and taking a sip.

“You – you, you mean, lie down? On the holotable?”, Peter frowned, confused, eyes darting from the table to Tony several times in confusion.

“Yes, hop up”, Tony nodded at the table, activating it once Peter had (hesitantly) sat down on it and placing his can of energetic on a nearby desk. “Friday will scan you and make a holographic projection. It shouldn’t take over a minute. You ever been through MRI?”, he asked.

“N-No”, Peter answered nervously.

“Good – it’s nothing like it. You can move around if you want, just try not to make abrupt movements”, he instructed, leaning against the desk behind him and taking another sip from his energetic. He crossed his arms and waited as Friday scanned Peter, bouncing his leg impatiently. Before the awkward silence between himself and Peter stretched for too long, the holotable finally stopped to whir.

“Scan complete”, Friday informed them. Tony gestured for Peter to hop out of the table, which the boy did with no difficulty, standing beside Tony as a holographic projection of his skeleton appeared hovering above the table instead.

“This is so cool”, Peter said, watching as Tony used his hands to zoom in on his skeleton with awe.

“Actually, the holotable wasn’t originally meant for this”, Tony commented, brow scrunched in concentration as he analyzed the barely noticeable fissures on Peter’s ribs. One of his hands were supporting his chin, while he used the other to make the hologram spin, twist and zoom as he saw fit. “But I decided to upgrade it after… Was it Mark 12?”, he asked.

“Yes, boss”, Friday supplied.

“Yeah. The first models of the suit weren’t too ribcage friendly”, he commented, focused on the hologram. He kept pinching his fingers and pulling them apart in ways too complex for Peter’s inexperienced eyes to pick up. “Or _bone_ friendly, for that matter. It took me a while to adapt the suit’s interior to prevent me from _snapping_ whenever I took a blow too harsh. Not all of us have a super healing factor, you know”, he teased.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark”, Peter ended up saying, even though he wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’re sorry for having a healing factor?”, Tony raised a mocking eyebrow at him. He zoomed out of Peter’s skeleton so that it returned to its original size and shut off the holotable with a simple wave of his hand, going back to his desk and sitting on the rolling chair in front of it.

“No, I mean –“, Peter stuttered, following Tony. “Sorry. That you had to go through all this”.

“It’s part of being a superhero”, Tony shrugged, turning on the monitor of the computer screen and taking another sip from his energetic. Peter watched him in silence, unable to come up with a response. This had been exactly what he had told Tony when he first woke up after the explosion – that he did the things he did, that he got himself in danger, because this was a part of being a superhero. And yet Tony, who had scolded and reproached him for trying to help, was now using the same excuse. Noticing Peter’s silence, Tony glanced at him over his shoulder. “Go on. Call me a hypocrite”, he told Peter, an almost smug look on his face.

Peter respected and admired Tony too much to call him a hypocrite, especially to his face, so he stayed silent, fingers fidgeting with each other and worrying at his lower lip. He didn’t know what he could possibly say in this situation, because as much as he felt that his relationship with Tony was starting to become more natural and light, especially now that Tony had seen him at his lowest, he was still afraid that he would end up overstepping a boundary and ruining everything. Thankfully, Tony spoke up before he had to.

“You know, kid, I was hoping this was a conversation that I wouldn’t actually need to _have_ with you, because I’m more of a ‘read-in-between-the-lines’ sort of guy. But you’re leaving me no choice”, he started, placing his can down on the desk and actually turning on his rolling chair in order to look at Peter face-to-face for the first time. He leaned back against the rest of his chair with only one elbow supporting him, looking as calm as if he was about to give an interview, and stared at Peter – who was standing up in front of him – with an interested, yet serious look. “I don’t know if you remember much of what happened yesterday?”, he said, and Peter felt his heart skip a beat. Oh no. Had he said or done something inappropriate that he didn’t remember, other than punching Tony in the face? Had he talked in his sleep and said something embarrassing? Had his fever made him hallucinate and put him and Mr. Stark in an awkward situation? “It’s a yes or no question”, Tony urged when a few seconds passed and Peter didn’t say anything.

“I… I remember fighting Furmintz, and the explosion, and waking up in my bedroom without my powers. You – you gave me my glasses, and the pills, and I fell asleep again”, Peter explained, frowning. “Then… I woke up in a lot of pain, and I think I might have said something but I don’t really remember much. I must have passed out…? Because next time I woke up I had my powers back, but all my senses were too heightened and you brought me here”, he explained.

“Hm”, Tony hummed low in his throat, looking pensive. There was something in his eyes, a kind of emotion that Peter couldn’t quite interpret. It looked like a mixture of sadness, grief, and yet, pride. “That was basically it”, he admitted, and then stayed silent for a long time. Peter didn’t know if Tony expected him to say something to fill in the silence, but even if he _did_ expect him to, he didn’t know what to say. Tony had expressed his wish to have a conversation with him, and yet he wasn’t speaking, almost as if he was still going through the process of gathering up the courage to say whatever it was he needed to say. Eventually, he raised his head to look at Peter again. “Do you know why I stayed there babysitting you instead of calling in a team of discreet professionals better trained in this area than me?”, he finally asked. Peter blinked dumbly.

“N-No”, he responded, sincere. This had been one of the main questions in his head ever since he first woke up.

“It’s because I care about you”, Tony said, and even though his face was very purposefully neutral and as nonchalant as ever, Peter could see there was raw emotion in his eyes. The billionaire tilted his head to the side and shrugged, as if that information wasn’t a big deal. “I’m not going to say it again, so I hope you heard it the first time”, he added, just to break the tension. Peter, who was feeling deeply surprised and moved by Tony’s words and who, in fact, had an affectionate warmness spreading across his chest, couldn’t hold back a nervous laugh at this Tony-like banter. “But I mean it, kid”, Tony met his eyes again, the hint of a smile on his lips but a foreign seriousness in his eyes. He looked almost vulnerable, as if he was having a really hard time talking about that subject and being open about his feelings. Which, as far as Peter knew, was something Tony had _a lot_ of trouble with. He still felt guilty, to this day, for ignoring Tony that one time, when he had been chasing after the Vulture while Tony was trying to talk about his relationship with his father. “I care about you, and I feel _responsible_. If something happens to you – if you get hurt, or, or if… you _die_ – I would feel like that’s on me. I’m just trying to make sure you can do what you do without putting your life at stake because of it. Risking your life is always an occupational hazard of being a hero, but I’ve been doing this _way_ before you. You’re young, and you get easily excited by everything – I can get that. But I have more experience than you, and I was _serious_ when I told you I want you to be better. I _know_ you can be better. And I don’t want to see you follow my footsteps – I want you to create your own”.

Peter simply stared at Tony, lips parted and heart beating fast inside his chest. To hear Tony tell him that – to learn that Tony cared so much about him, especially when he knew he _hated_ talking about his feelings – made a knot rise to his throat, blocking out whatever words of gratitude or appreciation he could ever think of mustering.

“I’m starting to feel like my old man, now”, he leaned back against his rolling chair, a slightly displeased look on his face. “But you need to know that; so if I’m the one who has to give you the dad talk, so be it”, he said, purposefully not meeting Peter’s eyes as he said the words. Had he watched the effect they had on the boy, he would have noticed how Peter’s eyes widened in shock. “Like I said to you before, there are a _whole_ lot of other heroes in the planet”, Tony continued, trying his best to look as natural as possible as he tilted his head to face Peter again. “I know you feel like it’s your responsibility to step up whenever you see something bad is happening, and I _know_ you have a lot of special spider-like abilities that not everyone has. You’re different. But you don’t _have_ to swim head-first into danger just because you _can_. Sometimes, you gotta go to the bench and let the grown-ups take over”, he gestured at himself.

“Mr. Stark –“, Peter tried to say, even though his voice was still constricted, but Tony raised a finger to interrupt him.

“Nah, ah, ah, I’m not done yet”, he cut off, crossing his arms above his chest and putting on that superior look he often wore whenever talking about a serious matter. “What I’m trying to say is – be a hero. Look after the little guy. Do what you have to do. But don’t give your _life_ for that. You’re _15_ , you still have a whole lot to live for. The last thing you want to do is to waste that all away”, he said, a somber look passing through his eyes. “I learned that the hard way”, he added, remembering Yiensen’s last words on the exit to that cave back in Afghanistan all those years ago. “And I know what you’re going to say”, he added when Peter made as if to speak up. “We had this discussion before, and I’m not going to have it again. What I’m trying to tell you is – don’t be _cocky_. Let other people do the work for you every once in a while. You don’t have to do everything alone”.

“Neither do you, sir”, Peter argued, doing his best to keep a firm voice. “That’s why I went after you yesterday. I could do something to help, and I _did_ something to help. Something terrible could have happened if I hadn’t stepped up, and I wouldn’t be able to live with that”.

“ _God_ , why can’t teenagers just _listen_ ”, Tony ran both hands down his face, groaning, his previous self-assured posture deflating as he hunched forwards on the chair and stood up.

“I get – I, I get it, Mr. Stark”, Peter added, taking a step back so that Tony could walk past him, grabbing his can from the desk and downing the rest of his energetic in one go. “You – you want me to take better care of myself. I can do that. I’ve – I’ve _been_ doing that, actually. I can’t stop doing what I do, but I’ll be more careful in the future”, he promised, following Tony around as he walked through the workshop.

“Hm, ok: no, you haven’t, but yes, that’s all I’m asking for”, Tony complied, tapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Remember that talk I gave you after Germany? Not to do anything I wouldn’t do, but not to do anything I _would_ , either?”, he asked.

“Yes”, Peter nodded, chuckling nervously at the memory.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about”, Tony said, squeezing his shoulder. “Do as I say, not as I do, and all that jazz. I’m just trying to help you out, kid”, he added.

“I know, Mr. Stark”, Peter nodded solemnly. “And I’m really grateful for that. Really. Thank you”, he said, putting as much emphasis as he could in his words. “I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for you”.

“Back at Queens, webbing common criminals in that ridiculous onesie and probably away from all this mess”, Tony scoffed, a little bit too self-deprecating. “C’mon, I’m taking you to your room. The scans show your ribs are fully healed and you’re not under any risk of losing your powers again any time soon. You’ll be fine”, he reassured, disposing of the empty energetic can and gesturing towards the exit of the workshop. Peter gave him a slightly disappointed look.

“But…?”, he said, doing his best not to pout like a child. “What about the tour?”, he asked in a small voice, even though he was already following Tony out.

“I can give you the tour tomorrow”, Tony rolled his eyes in a slightly affectionate way. “Don’t worry, you’ll have a lot of time to get to know the compound _and_ the workshop before your cute aunt comes back home. If you’re lucky, I may even cook you more soup”, he teased, giving Peter a crooked smile. Peter chuckled nervously at this, stepping inside the elevator with Tony. When they reached the second floor of the facility, Tony led Peter across a hallway with firm steps that indicated he knew exactly where he was going.

Peter frowned. He had thought that Tony would have him pick a random guest room or maybe crash on the couch, but from the way he was walking, it looked like he already had a room in mind for Peter. They stopped in front of a door that looked just like all the others in the compound, but as soon as Tony opened it by placing his thumb on the biometric scanner, Peter knew that this room could be no one else’s but _his_. Tony had made a room _for Peter_.

The place was decorated in a very similar way to his own room back at Queens, with a bunker bed, posters hanging from the wall and _so much new tech_ that Peter wouldn’t be able to name all the devices permeating the room even if he tried. The broad window had a clear view of the field in front of the facility, and the ceiling had several different bars from which Peter could hang in his favorite spider-like way. He turned on his heels to face Tony with wide eyes that were filled with awe and excitement and an ear-to-ear smile, to which Tony simply shrugged in his trademark ‘I’m-the-best’ way.

“I had the room made back when I offered you to become an Avenger”, he explained, gesturing at the place. “When you… _politely declined_ , I decided to keep it anyway, in case you needed a place to crash. Well, here you go. Goodnight, sleep tight, and all of that”, he gestured towards the bunker bed. “There’s clothes for you on the drawer and if you need anything, just call Friday”, he made as if to leave, walking towards the door, but stopped halfway in order to give Peter a serious look. “Oh, and kid”, he added. “If you feel any pain, any sensory overload – I want you to tell me. Ok?”

Peter, who had already opened the drawer to check its contents and was happily holding up a shirt that said “don’t trust atoms – they make up everything”, turned to look at Tony with gleeful eyes and gave him a series of nods that probably ended up looking too excited.

“Really, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, placing the shirt on the top of the bed and taking a hesitant step towards Tony, not quite sure of what to do with his hands. “I don’t know how to thank you. For, for everything – the suit, and, and looking after me, and the new tech you gave me, and now this…”, he trailed off, desperate to find the appropriate words but failing to do so. What he really wanted was to give Tony a hug, but after the awkward moment they had in the car back when they returned from Germany, Peter wasn’t sure if Tony would allow that.

“It’s ok kid”, Tony said, giving him a look that had a hint of superiority in it. “You don’t need to thank me for any of that. Just keep your webhead _safe_ from now on”, he gestured for Peter to come closer. The boy did so, uncertain of what to do with himself. “Come on”, Tony encouraged once he noticed Peter’s hesitation, even though he was still wearing that usual, indifferent tone of his, not actually looking at him. Once Peter was standing close enough to him, he passed an arm around his shoulders in a fatherly way, tapping one of his arms with pride and tilting his head so that he could look at the kid. “I made you _soup_ , Parker. I guess we can say we’re in hugging terms, now”, he explained. Peter offered him a wide smile and immediately enveloped him in a tight hug, which Tony returned after a few seconds too long.

“Thank you”, Peter said again, voice muffled by Tony’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mr. Stark”.

“You’re welcome”, Tony sighed in resignation, sounding almost as if Peter was forcing him to say the words after thanking him so many times in a row. “Ok, that’s enough hugging for now”, he tapped Peter’s back, which prompted the boy to break the hug and step away, looking almost embarrassed. “We can… do that again later”, he gestured vaguely at Peter, trying so hard to sound indifferent that it had the exact opposite effect. “Now, I should let you know that the compound is fully automated and Friday _will_ tell me if you sneak out of the window to go snooping around in the middle of the night”, he added, giving Peter a look that indicated that was something Tony definitely though he would do. “I would advise against that, since you still need to recover and I’m _definitely_ going to ground you if you as much as _think_ about stepping out of this room before completing a full eight-hour cycle of sleep”, he warned.

“O-Ok”, Peter nodded.

“Good”, Tony tapped Peter’s shoulder again. “Have a good night, kid. Don’t forget to call Friday if you feel anything, and I mean _anything_ – I want you to tell her if you feel as much as a weird itch on your toe. You understand?”, he asked, overprotectively.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah”, Peter said quickly, never ceasing to nod. He was probably starting to look like one of those bobble head toys from the sheer amount of _nodding_ he was doing.

“There’s a bathroom in here if you need it”, Tony added, pointing to a door at the corner of the room. “And towels, in case you want to take a shower. Oh, I brought your phone too, in case you feel like contacting May”, he added, nodding at the device, which was sitting at the nightstand beside the bed. “Anything else you need, just ask Friday. She probably knows more about this place than _I_ do”.

“Mr. Stark!”, Peter called after him as Tony let go of him and grabbed the handle of the door, ready to step out of Peter’s room. “What’s the… What’s the Wi-Fi password?”, he asked in a small, almost hesitant voice. Tony stared at him as if Peter had just asked the most offensive, ludicrous question in the world.

“ _Really_ , Peter?”, he raised his eyebrows at the boy. “You’re barely even recovered from getting your ass kicked, losing your powers, almost dying, getting your powers again _and_ your first priority is the _Wi-Fi_? I swear to god, kid…”, he pinched the bruised bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. “It’s GENIUSBILLIONAIREPLAYBOYPHILANTROPIST, all caps, but _don’t_ stay up too late using the internet or I _will_ have Friday cut it off. God, I can’t believe I’m starting to sound like a middle-aged dad”, he muttered under his breath. “Howard must be pissing his pants laughing at me”.

“Thanks!”, Peter said, grabbing his phone and finding that, miraculously, there was only _one_ missed call from Aunt May. He hopped on the bed at the same time Tony left the room, closing the door behind him, but before Peter could even add the Wi-Fi network to his device, or even _think_ about heading to the bathroom in order to take a shower and change clothes, Tony was already reopening the door, only his head peeking inside.

“Hey, kid”, he said, voice a lot more gentle than it had been just a moment before. Peter looked up in surprise, not having expected Tony to return so quickly. “You did a good job”, he said, looking almost… proud. “Just… take better care next time”, he added.

Peter stared at him for a long time, a smile blossoming on his lips and tears – of gratitude? Of emotion? Of admiration? Of love? – raising to his eyes and prickling at the corners, never running down his cheeks. To have Tony compliment him like that – to know Tony, his mentor, his idol, his _hero,_ ever since he was a little boy, _cared_ about him – was more than he could have ever asked for in his entire life.

“Will do, Mr. Stark”, Peter said, voice breaking almost imperceptibly. Tony gave him a crooked smile before closing the door behind him with a click.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoy this! I love to explore the Tony-Peter father-son dynamics from the MCU and I've been meaning to post this story for a while, now. Hopefully this turned out ok!  
> Please (pretty please?) leave kudos if you liked this and comments, however small, always make my day! I'm always open to constructive criticism as well. If you didn't like something about this story, or think that I could improve somehow, let me know!  
> You can always find me on tumblr as edema--ruh and on twitter as @turbofitzs.


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